I met him sitting on the high bridge That spanned the narrow channel
Lost to life

He sat in silence
Perhaps not hearing the birds
Or the language of leaves
Under the caress of the breeze

He was weeping!

For what?
I do not know
He would not say

I sat with him for a few minutes
And as duties of the day called me away
I picked up the bag
My grass knife
And faced the task ahead

I left him to himself
A lifeless heart
In a body burdened with blood-stained tears.

Someone took away his life
Or he sacrificed himself on the altar of self.