The winning game resolves itself from the pain of time,
Success lasts forever, the doors to it remind me of space;
Then my keeper trains me well, with food to demand from me,
So that wealth is a picture of wonderment for the relaxer.
My exterior shows sailing and mailing, asking for the time,
The winning game lasts forever, to be the games of tomorrow.
See the keys to potential grin like the swords of lovers,
So that my lover speaks what he seeks and caresses the blindness
Once in torment, and next in utter darkness.
Old worlds are old enough, to connive them is brilliance,
Three of us are one of them, and the old worlds speak tonight.