I. O Fortuna
O Fortuna, velut luna, statu variabilis,
semper crescis, aut decrescis, vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat, et tunc curat, ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem, potestatem, dissolvit ut glaciem.
Sors immanis, et inanis, rota tu volubilis,
status malus, vana salus, semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata, et velata, michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum, dorsum nudum, fero tui sceleris.
Sors salutis, et virtutis, michi nunc contraria,
est affectus, et defectus, semper in angaria.
Hac in hora, sine mora, corde pulsum tangite;
quod per sortem, sternit fortem, mecum omnes plangite!
II. Fortune plango vulnera
Fortune plango vulnera, stillantibus ocellis
quod sua michi munera, subtrahit rebellis.
Verum est, quod legitur, fronte capillata,
sed plerumque sequitur, Occasio calvata.
In Fortune solio, sederam elatus,
prosperitatis vario, flore coronatus;
quicquid enim florui, felix et beatus,
nunc a summo corrui, gloria privatus.
Fortune rota volvitur: descendo minoratus;
alter in altum tollitur; nimis exaltatus
rex sedet in vertice, caveat ruinam!
nam sub axe legimus, Hecubam reginam.
I. O Fortune
O Fortune, like the moon, the state of which changes,
always growing, or decreasing, detestable life
now difficult, and then easy, deceptive sharp mind;
poverty, power, it melts them like ice.
Fate—monstrous, and empty, you whirling wheel,
stand malevolent, well-being is vain, and always fades to nothing,
shadowed, and veiled, you plague me too
now through the game, my bare back, I bring to your villainy.
Fate, in health, and in virtue, is now against me,
driven on, and weighted down, always enslaved.
So at this hour, without delay, pluck the vibrating string;
since through Fate, strikes down the strong, everyone weep with me!
II. I bemoan the wounds of Fortune
I bemoan the wounds of Fortune, with weeping eyes,
for the gifts she made me, she perversely takes away.
It is written in truth, that she has a fine head of hair,
but, when it comes to seizing an opportunity, she is bald.
On Fortune’s throne, I used to sit raised up,
crowned with the many-coloured flowers of prosperity;
though I may have flourished, happy and blessed,
now I fall from the peak, deprived of glory.
The wheel of Fortune turns; I go down, demeaned;
another is raised up; far too high up
sits the king at the summit – let him fear ruin!
for under the axis is written, Queen Hecuba.
Gw benar2 addicted parah sama lagu ini. Coba dengar coy, kereen…