The house is broken down and fire
Spread where nothing was left to burn.
What was in this scene left to admire?
And what lessons were there yet to learn?
Yesterday, the house was beating out alive;
Musical tones echoed in every single room;
Busy were the bees building the hive,
Blinded being too busy to foresee this doom.
The tragic end of so long a vivid journey
Chattering towards their end, saving no means.
Some day they were the prosecutor and attorney,
And inevitably away from each other they had to lean.
Their house woke up this day in agony and pain-
Moved were its columns with nothing left to admire.
It felt like a lucrative temple, yet, way so profane,
So it did what was sane and set itself on fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem