Hi again guys. How are you doing? The other night I reread a email that was sent to me by a chain of them. It was about a series of slides about a Pablo Neruda's poem: "Die Slowly".
When I read it, I felt that that was exactly my kind of words in a poem. The kind I want to tell people every day and being heard by them. The kind I want to write in a graffiti. Thous words are the ones that worth talking off. For meanings like that, the world has seen a lot of wars and a lot of persons had died, so here it is:
I hope you liked it, see you in the next post.
When I read it, I felt that that was exactly my kind of words in a poem. The kind I want to tell people every day and being heard by them. The kind I want to write in a graffiti. Thous words are the ones that worth talking off. For meanings like that, the world has seen a lot of wars and a lot of persons had died, so here it is:
"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 "it’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,
she who does not find grace in herself,
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,
reminding yourself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead
to the attainment of a splendid happiness. "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 "it’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,
she who does not find grace in herself,
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,
reminding yourself that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead
I hope you liked it, see you in the next post.
There are blind, deaf, speachless and tetraplegics who have a strong love of life but Neruda didn't put himself in there place, Pablo dies slowly because he didn't have empathy!
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