Some believe in making fast bucks
When luck sometimes smiles somehow,
Eventually turning rich transiently, ere
Every sign of fortune vanishes into a state
Predominantly of penury, losing the life-prop
Supporting the ‘climbers upward progress’,
That takes a terrible nosedive that
Accidentally drives one insane or is a
Knock that brings back to senses, as pluck
Ends and poverty does not abate,
Swerving the person back to the path of righteousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem