Breezing by, next stop in mind,
Halted by a sad city design.
Art this is not, not of any kind.
The people suffering, self inflicted some, but I still find.
A beauty inside the outward signs,
For I recognize beauty, amongst the glaring binds;
That these people share, in the chairs they deem divine.
Park bench, I love you, for your beauty and service combined.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love you for your beauty and service combined, wonderful line, thanks.