Pusilánime incapaz, donde el miedo es hogar,
Su paz singular, evita que afronte,
las batallas de cada día, las peleas que da la vida,
decisiones tomadas, cubierta por un mal enfoque.
Ama la calma, no pisa terreno incierto,
temblando en la sombra, evita los desconciertos.
El peligro se mofa, de su carácter amilanado,
abraza su refugio, una soledad autoimpuesta,
totalmente paralizado.
Ser valiente es de algunos, enfrentar todo reto,
pero hay dicha en la cobardía, en ese respeto
al susurro que dice: "No te expongas, no te arriesgues,"
y así el cobarde danza en el silencio,
vive huyendo de su madurez, con total atrevimiento.
En un mundo que clama por héroes y acciones,
él encuentra en el temor sus propias canciones.
Celebra su falta de resiliencia, con sonrisas escondidas,
escapando a la realidad, viviendo sin responsabilidad.
Mientras otros avanzan, por caminos de audacia,
este miserable ser, de negaciones se engracia.
Porque en la cobardía hay una verdad sutil,
se vive sin heridas, sin dolores, sin llantos y quejidos,
en un mundo febril, se vive siendo un infeliz,
que desea todo, haberlo perdido.
Cowardly, incapable, where fear is home,
His unique peace prevents him from facing,
the battles of each day, the fights that life gives,
decisions made, covered by a bad approach.
He loves calm, does not tread uncertain ground,
trembling in the shadow, he avoids confusion.
Danger mocks his timid character,
he embraces his refuge, a self-imposed solitude,
totally paralyzed.
Being brave is for some, facing every challenge,
but there is joy in cowardice, in that respect
for the whisper that says: "Don't expose yourself, don't risk yourself,"
and so the coward dances in silence,
he lives fleeing from his maturity, with total daring.
In a world that cries out for heroes and actions,
he finds in fear his own songs. He celebrates his lack of resilience, with hidden smiles,
escaping from reality, living without responsibility.
While others advance, along paths of audacity,
this miserable being, is graced by denials.
Because in cowardice there is a subtle truth,
one lives without wounds, without pain, without tears and moans,
in a feverish world, one lives being unhappy,
who wishes to have lost everything.
