Wheels of fortune rattle around, making noise, but never
really giving anyone help.
Coffers filled majestically and held quite steadily away
from all who seek to benefit from them.
Fortune lasting as long as a three-minute roller coaster
ride, life is delivered to each haphazardly and filled
with poverty and strife.
No license for riches or paradise are given to anyone
except in handfuls temporarily.
Nothing can reach beyond this world except our souls,
yet the wheels of fortune continue to make noise,
distracting those of us who reach for straws of gold in
clouds above the earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem