The Metro

Why in this world do we not care,
When lovers we see standing there?
When hand in hand, life passes by,

Though observers do not try,
They do not heed,
Their anxious speed,

In check is their appreciation,
Intent on distilling their creation,
It is enough to wrench the heart,

That in this life, there is no art,
We do not try to play the part,
Though we all know before we start,

In life is
Beauty, in beauty
Love, in love
Joy.

And joy is not the cupid's dart,
But love and beauty,
Joy and art.