Here the italian traslation of this poem
Muere lentamente quien se transforma en esclavo
del hábito, repitiendo todos los días los mismos
trayectos, quien no cambia de marca, no arriesga vestir
un color nuevo y no le habla a quien no conoce. Muere lentamente quien hace de la televisión su gurú.
Muere lentamente quien evita una pasión, quien
prefiere el negro sobre blanco y los puntos sobre
las “íes” a un remolino de emociones, justamente las
que rescatan el brillo de los ojos, sonrisas de los
bostezos, corazones a los tropiezos y sentimientos.
lentamente quien no voltea la mesa cuando
está infeliz en el trabajo, quien no arriesga lo cierto
por lo incierto para ir detrás de un sueño, quien no se
permite por lo menos una vez en la vida, huir de los
consejos sensatos.
Muere lentamente quien no viaja, quien no lee,
quien no oye música, quien no encuentra gracia en sí
mismo.
Muere lentamente quien destruye su amor propio,
quien no se deja ayudar.
Muere lentamente, quien pasa los días quejándose
de su mala suerte o de la lluvia incesante.
Muere lentamente, quien abandona un proyecto
antes de iniciarlo, no preguntando de un asunto que
desconoce o no respondiendo cuando le indagan sobre
algo que sabe.
Evitemos la muerte en suaves cuotas, recordando
siempre que estar vivo exige un esfuerzo mucho mayor
que el simple hecho de respirar.
Solamente la ardiente paciencia hará que
conquistemos una espléndida felicidad.
Pablo Neruda
This is one of my favourite poem. This poem was sent to me by a friend of mine with whom I have not been in touch for a long time. Searching on the internet I’ve found this english translation:
Dies slowly
Dies slowly he who transforms himself in slave of habit,
repeating every day the same itineraries,
who does not change brand,
does not risk to wear a new color and doesn’t talk to whom doesn’t know.
Dies slowly he who makes of television his guru.
Dies slowly he who avoids a passion,
who prefers black to white
and the dots on the “i” to a whirlpool of emotions,
just those ones that recover the gleam from the eyes,
smiles from the yawns,
hearts from the stumbling and feelings.
Dies slowly he who does not overthrow the table when is unhappy at work,
who does not risk the certain for the uncertain
to go toward that dream that is keeping him awake.
Who does not allow, at least one time in life, to flee from sensate advises.
Dies slowly he who does not travel, does not read,
does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys his self love,
who does not accept somebody’s help.
Dies slowly he who passes his days complaining of his bad luck or the incessant rain.
Dies slowly he who abandons a project before starting it,
who does not ask over a subject that does not know
or who does not answer when being asked about something he knows.
Dies slowly he who does not share his emotions, joys and sadness,
who does not trust, who does not even try.
Dies slowly he who does not relive his memories
and continues getting emotional as if living them at that moment.
Dies slowly he who does not intent excelling,
who does not learn from the stones of the road of life,
who does not love and let somebody love.
Let’s avoid death in soft quotes,
remembering always that to be alive demands an effort much bigger
that the simple fact of breathing
Pablo Neruda
See you,
Sereno
