On the rippled beach at the sea's front
Lies a hotel, camouflaged by diverging sand.
Through years of neglect, weathered down to a runt,
Yet still noble enough to sit on this sea-side land.
The 30's bestowed her an opening debut,
Many guests, so many life stories.
Then arrived the 40'and 50's too,
Hauling in more green glory.
Up crept the winter of 63,
And the materialization of a new hotel.
So all her customers, along this sea,
Cast her aside, not even a farewell.
Catastrophe came and threw her in a whirlwind,
Sucking all of her capital away.
It was obvious her run had come to an end;
Her carcass is all to stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You paint a vivid melancholy picture of a building fading with it's history like a photgraph left in the sunlight. I really like this.