Tidings of the great ones of this earth
Are brought to us by the sagas:
Rising up like the stars,
They then also set like the stars.
That sounds comforting and one must know it.
Only: for us who must feed them,
It has always, unfortunately, been pretty much the same.
Rise or fall: who bears the expense?
  To be sure, the wheel always keeps on turning,
  That which is on top does not remain there.
  But for the water underneath, unfortunately, that only means
  That it must propel the wheel forever.

Ah, we have had many masters,
Had tigers and hyenas,
Had eagles, had pigs,
But we fed this one and that one.
Whether they were better or worse:
Ah, the boot was always like the boot,
And it kicked us. You understand: I mean
That we do not need different masters, but rather none at all!
  To be sure, the wheel always keeps on turning,
  That which is on top does not remain there.
  But for the water underneath, unfortunately, that only means
  That it must propel the wheel forever.

And they beat their heads
Bloody, scrapping over the booty,
They call others greedy devils
And call themselves good people.
Ceaselessly we see them resenting
And fighting each other.  Only and solely,
When we no longer want to feed them,
They are suddenly completely at one.
  For then the wheel does not go on turning
  And the merry game, it comes to an end
  When the water finally, with unleashed
  Power, pursues its own concerns.