Right there in the shore of the forest,
where inspiration has known me by name,
there,right there,that very place,
where my footfall is familier to the ears of sitted grasses
To that place i resigned from my comfort zone
At dawn to pay attention to nature's call.

And right there that very place,
i saw one lying blind to the beauty earth
As being no longer of this life
Am sure,he was wrung of his own soul,
The breath in his nostril has ceased,

i saw people moving with murmuring lips forming circle round about his remain,
As they whisper in strange voices unknown to me
As he laid still motionless,
Right in that thick forest where i hover around bound with head full of reasons

Right there in that forest
they conterminate with the body of one wrung of his own soul.
In time and in season i move in alas  
pondering on the cold heartedness of men,
Still am without the knowledge of his crime
For he was young and unaged.