As an aging septuagenarian,
Rethinking all my foolish years now passed,
I've come to a humbling insight at long last
That I must relearn life, now and again.
I live in a world of wealth and poverty
Where rich and poor exist now side by side:
What are the playthings to which they're allied,
Where some have little, some have luxury?
To whom or what should I give any thanks?
Is it just an abstract toss of random dice?
How can this life of mine be full and nice
While some have but a penny in their banks?
What origin is there, this curious dance?
The answer leaves me looking vain, askance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem