Оригинален текст
In the garden, in the park, on a bench, i sit.
A newspaper floats on the breeze of this late summer.
It is coming my way,
I patiently wait.
I see the sign, it's on the road
And i think it's crazy
In the garden, of the park, on a bench, i watch.
The sandy feet of the children.
Pearls of sweat run across their beautiful faces.