I hate chain letters. I never open them. Infact, I get so aggitated when my friends and family waste their time and mine by sending them. They're awful. Please if you're reading, don't send me them unless you refer to me first as to whether or not I'd be interested... I'm serious....
However, the following poem was part of a chain letter and it wasn't originally sent to me. It was sent to my friend Milena in Italia, who made me read it through her email.... long story short.. I MADE her send it to me because I was so impressed with it. The poet is Martha Madieros, a Brazilian from Rio Di Janiero... I can't understand portugese, so below is the Italian translation, and after that; english. Do yourself a favor and read it twice. I'm certain you'll want to share this with others as well...
Lentamente muore
Lentamente muore chi diventa schiavo dell'abitudine, ripetendo ogni giorno gli stessi percorsi, chi non cambia la marcia, chi non rischia e cambia colore dei vestiti, chi non parla a chi non conosce.
Muore lentamente chi evita una passione, chi preferisce il nero su bianco e i puntini sulle "i" piuttosto che un insieme di emozioni, proprio quelle che fanno brillare gli occhi, quelle che fanno di uno sbadiglio un sorriso, quelle che fanno battere il cuore davanti all'errore e ai sentimenti.
Lentamente muore chi non capovolge il tavolo, chi è infelice sul lavoro, chi non rischia la certezza per l'incertezza, per inseguire un sogno, chi non si permette almeno una volta nella vita di fuggire ai consigli sensati.
Lentamente muore chi non viaggia, chi non legge, chi non ascolta musica, chi non trova grazia in se stesso.
Muore lentamente chi distrugge l'amor proprio, chi non si lascia aiutare; chi passa i giorni a lamentarsi della propria sfortuna o della pioggia incessante.
Lentamente muore chi abbandona un progetto prima di iniziarlo, chi non fa domande sugli argomenti che non conosce, chi non risponde quando gli chiedono qualcosa che conosce.
Evitiamo la morte a piccole dosi, ricordando sempre che essere vivo richiede uno sforzo di gran lunga maggiore del semplice fatto di respirare.
Soltanto l'ardente pazienza porterà al raggiungimento di una splendida felicità.-
(Martha Medieros)
Slowly He Dies
Slowly he dies, he who becomes a slave of habit, repeating the same course every day, who doesn't change his march, who doesn't risk and change the colors of his clothes, who doesn't talk to whom he doesn't know.
Slowly he dies, he who avoids having a passion, who prefers black on white, and all the dots on the "i"'s rather than a whirlwind of emotions. Those emotions, that make our eyes shine bright, turn a yawn into a smile, and make the heart beat ferociously with feelings.
Slowly he dies, he who doesn't take a stand, who is unhappy at work, who doesn't risk certainty for incertainty to follow a dream, who doesn't permit himself at least one time in his life to flee from the generic and sensible advisement of others.
Slowly he dies, he who doesn't travel, who doesn't read, who doesn't listen to music, who doesn't find grace in himself.
Slowly he dies, he who destroys the love he has for himself, who doesn't allow himself to be helped, who passes everyday complaining about his constant misfortune or the incessant rain that falls.
Slowly he dies, he who abandons a project before he even begins it, who doesn't take the time to ask questions on arguments he is uneducated on, who doesn't respond with the answers when he does know something.
Everyday, we avoid death in small doses, remembering always that the gift of being alive requires a much greater force from within, than just the simple action of breathing.
Only ardent patience will bring us to the fufillment of splendid happiness. -
(Martha Medieros)- (Translated by: Lindsey Signorelli)
