The price to play is steep indeed,
but reward to be had is more desirable.
Greed is the drug that feeds all inhibitions;
a gambler's reward is the only route to his plunder.
Though constant failure looms, pursuit insist
for one more try, a mighty blow to turn an endless tide.
One to forgive all previous misgivings.
Bit by bit the future hangs in the balance.
The dream lies high for that one thing, an endless prize.
Though it may never arrive, in the end,
wishful thinking is the gambler's only true delight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem