from Carmina Burana by Carl Orff

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Below are the lyrics to this composition, first the original Latin, then a literal English translation.

Latin

English-Literal

O Fortuna,
velut Luna,
status variabilis,
semper cresis
aut decresis;
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
cordum pulsum tangite;
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite!

O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing
and waning;
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it,
poverty
and power
it melts them like ice.

Fate - monstrous
and empty
you whirling wheel,
you are malevolent,
well-being is in vain
and always fades to nothing,
shadowed
and veiled
you plague me too;
now through the game
I bring my bare back
to your villainy.

Fate is against me
in health
and virtue,
driven on
and weighted down,
always enslaved.
So at this hour
without delay
pluck the vibrating strings;
since Fate
strikes down the strong man,
everyone weep with me!

Below are two different  English poetic interpretations of the original Latin lyrics.

English-Poetic

O Fortune like the moon,
you ever wane
but to regain
your former circumstance;
life is equally fain
to decimate
as reenstate
the mind with games of chance,
prosperity
and penury
reversing with a glance.

Immense and futile fate,
uneasy ground,
safety unsound,
mistakenly awaited,
to your wheel I am bound;
you have hidden your face
denied your grace,
for sorrow was I slated,
I have lost the knack
this barren back
Shows what you have perpetrated.

Unknown to me remain
salvations lot,
of virtue aught;
equally loss and gain
await the hangmans knot.
This very hour fails my power,
my pulse beats on the wane..
fortune is a knave
to impale the brave,
all weep now for my pain.

O Fortune,
variable as the moon
always dost thou wax and wane.
Detestable life,
first dost thou mistreat us,
and then whimsically,
thou heedest our desires.
As the sun melts the ice,
so dost thou dissolve
both poverty and power.

Monstrous and empty fate,
thou, turning wheel, a
art mean, voiding
good health at thy will.
Veiled in obscurity,
thou dost attack me also.
To thy cruel pleasure
I bare my back.

Thou dost withdraw
my health and virtue;
thou dost threaten
my emotion and weakness with torture.
At this hour, therefore let us
pluck the strings without delay.
Let us mourn together,
for fate crushes the brave.