Disheartened  
The chocolate river is dry and the German 
tourists have gone home and last years cherries 
hang unpicked as do almond nuts that are also 
full of worms and green grass isn’t sweet. 
The sun is a yellow ring on a blue pale sky, 
disillusioned as a 30 watt bulb in a room 
with faded wallpaper, at a run down hotel which 
calls itself Bellevue; last stop before sleeping  
rough. Nothing is more abject than an out of 
season tourist town, sleepless shopkeeper and 
bored waiters, even the flowers in the park are 
grey; and except for a couple of retired seagulls, 
birds have flown to Africa and will not return 
before spring rain falls.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    