There are not many beach hotels still standing
Some have fallen victim to the relentless sea
And others have just faded from modern memory
I am sitting in the dining room of such a hotel
The sea is wild and is being dominated by the February winds
Only ghosts now populate this silent room
I am quite alone
The waiter brings me a bowl of steaming soup
But it is flavourless cold and quite bitter
I can not longer see my passing reflection
What a tranquil curse