Frankly the suicide of Werter was the act of an egocentric narcissist cheated of the central role in his own little drama. He was the aesthetic Victorian treasure hunter who's rival got there first. He was unable to bare the third spot in the love triangle and constructed his own demise as a way of returning to the top of the bill. He was undoubtedly in love, not with the fräulein but with what she could do to enhance him. If he had truly loved her he would not have killed himself while she lived. It is a great pity this story influenced a whole generation's worth of pointless romantic posturing when the cause of love would have been better served by a more genuinely selfless conceptualisation of heroism.
Strong men are weeping Weeping softly at twilight The sound rises with the Smoke of cook fires The city trembles in the Evening light for As the face of the sun has left the sky The voice of justice has fallen silent in the gate A child has taken his place From the top of the wall a child lifts its voice From the gate there is no answer The eminent men are silent The landowners examine Hastily written contracts in the Weak light of a single lamp Strong men selling their inheritance For doubtful promises of safety And the seats in the gate are empty
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