The purple gloom of midnight hides
all outward signs of the decay.
A sense of grandeur still abides.
That’s absent by the light of day.
Stray silver moonbeams softly show
to best advantage what remains
of elegance from long ago
but very tactfully refrain,
From highlighting faults and flaws,
so obvious in the bright sunlight.
The broken panes and sagging doors
are kindly hidden by the night..
The formal gardens overgrown.
They have been long deprived of care,
dividing walls just heaps of stone.
Show through the brambles here and there.
I chose to walk this way by night.
By daylight it distresses me
to see it in its present plight.
When I recall it used to be.
A boys idea of paradise
I used to wish that it was mine.
It makes me sad to realise.
Nothing can halt its slow decline.
They’ll tear it down and in its place.
They will erect monstrosities
without a single saving grace.
That they can sell profitably.
A stately home for centuries
will disappear without a trace.
But I will retain my memories.
That something that they can’t erase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem