I lament the wounds of Fortune (Original)
I lament the wounds of Fortune
with weeping eyes,
because the gifts she made me
she takes away rebelliously;
truly we read
that she has a hairy head,
but mostly she is bald
Chance is bald.
On Fortune's throne
I used to sit raised up,
crowned with the various
flowers of prosperity;
whatever I flourished in
happy and blessed,
now I have fallen from the top
deprived of glory.
Fortune's wheel turns around;
I descend diminished;
another is raised up high;
too exalted
a king sits at the summit,
beware of ruin,
for under the axle we read
of Queen Hecuba.