Die Slowly
He
who becomes the slave of habit,
who
follows the same routes every day,
who
never changes pace,
who
does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who
does not speak and does not experience, dies slowly.
He
or she who shuns passion,
who prefers
black on white,
dotting
ones 'i's rather than a bundle of emotions,
the
kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that
turn a yawn into a smile,
that
make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings, dies slowly.
He
or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy,
who
is unhappy at work,
who
does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to
thus follow a dream,
those
who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives, die slowly.
He
who does not travel,
who
does not read,
who
does not listen to music,
who
does not find grace in himself, dies slowly.
He
who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who
does not allow himself to be helped,
who
spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck,
about
the rain that never stops, dies slowly.
He
or she who abandon a project before starting it,
who
fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn’t know,
he
or she who don’t reply when they are asked something they do know, die slowly.
Let’s
try and avoid death in small doses,
always
reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort by far
greater
than the simple fact of breathing.
Only
a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness
by Pablo Neruda
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