Here is the answer:
Slowly dies he who becomes a slave to habit,
repeating the same journey every day,
he who doesn't change his march,
he who doesn't risk to change the colour of his clothes,
he who doesn't speak to he whom he doesn't know.
Slowly dies he who shuns passion,
he who prefers black on white and dots on 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.
Slowly dies he who doesn't overturn the table,
he who is unhappy in his work,
he who doesn't risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives.
Slowly dies he who doesn't travel, he who doesn't read,
he who doesn't listen to music,
he who doesn't find grace in himself,
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.
Slowly dies he who abandons a project before even starting it,
who fails to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know,
he who doesn't answer when he is asked something that he knows.
Let's avoid death by small doses,
remembering always 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...
By Pablo Neruda