Answer:
I turn around once. What is out will not get in. I turn around again. What is in will not get out.
Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. And whoever knows it wants it not
I have legs but never walk, I may have flowers but no soil, I hold food but never eat.
They try to beat me, they try in vain. And when I win, I end the pain.
What flies without wings? What passes all things? What mends all sorrow? What brings the morrow?
Mountains will crumble and temples will fall. And no man can survive its endless call.