Busy-looking carpets being walked upon by many
people of various types and models of living.
Some with a lively step, as when they were
younger, others barely getting around, holding
onto a walker, preventing them from falling
over.
All of them, within Harrah's Casino, trying to
entice destiny into giving them lots of money
and making their wishes come true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem