Life goes on like a game of sixty four squares
With belligerent queens and docile kings
Crafty knights and impotent bishops
Till the clock runs out and the bell doth rings
What begins as a push on e-4 one fine day
must end when the pawn matures on col eight
some grey, some bald yet no wiser by a shade
Having castled once or twice and yet having lost the game
Strange this game that so much of life imitates
And we know not with whom we do really play
The God for His mirth and grace that we crave
Or the shadowy Devil who makes no mistake......
Other than the fact that you may castle only once. The poem is wonderful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, life is a game of chess Besides how well we make our moves It demands so much of concentration And mammoth levels of patience.....! ...... Great write! !