And so he treads on the lonely island
His brown legs wading through the sand
No cold , No fever, No semblance of fear
No talk , No banter, No near and dear
Neither does it burn nor does it rain
He feels no tension; he feels no pain
The air wraps him around like a shawl
He has no pride , he does not fall
No joy , No sorrow , No highs , No lows
He has no wishes , no friends or foes
He has no fancy , he has no whim
Life or death means nothing to him
Walking through the sand he does not tire
Heaven or hell he has no desire
He feels untied , he feels free
He is the lone apple in a lonely tree
He has nothing to spend, nothing to give
All he has is his life to live
And so he treads on the lonely island
His tired legs wading through the sand.
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