Muere lentamente

8 05 2009

bay

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 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.

Muere 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.

-atribuido a Pablo Neruda

He dies slowly who becomes a slave of habit
Repeating everday the same pattern,
Who does not ever change his brand,
Who does not risk wearing new colors,
and does not speak with those he does not know.

He dies slowly who avoids a passion
Who prefers black to white and
Correct pronunciation over a swirl of emoitions,
Those ones that salvage
The gleam in the eye, the gaping smiles,
Hearts from stumbling and feeling.

He dies slowly who does not overturn the table
When he is unhappy at work,
Who does not risk the certain for the uncertain in order to pursue a dream,
Who does not allow himself at least once in his life
To flee from sensible advice.

He dies slowly who does not travel,
Who does not read, who does not listen to music
Who does not find elegance in himself,

He dies slowly who destroys his self-love,
Who does not let himself be helped.

He dies slowly who passes the days
Complaining of bad luck or incessant rain,

He dies slowly who abandons a project before starting it,
Not asking about something he doesn’t know, or
Saying nothing when he does know.

Let us avoid death in soft quotas,
Always remembering that to be alive
Demands more than just breathing.
Only ardent patience will assure
That we conquer a splendid hapiness.

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One response

5 12 2010
Eric

I love this poem, but some googling gives the appearance that it is not actually a Neruda. Do you have any idea who really wrote it?

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