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