Behind a cloth with a floral pattern
Are sixty years of sorrow
Sharp cries resonate from the small rooms
Yet the juniper wood remains silent
The fragrance of the wood fades away with the years
And in the cracks where the green paint is peeling
Termites do their destructive work
Such scenes of the past are disappearing like floating clouds
The decadent days that once were, fade like footsteps overhead
How many people who look at this lonely, jagged Yushan Hotel
Can know what has transpired here?