The Black Pawn
by TD Euwaite
Identical, these eight on line
Turned on a lathe
This fodder
A thin defense against the White
With one move, one direction.
The labyrinth they build
Before Knight and King
For the Queen
Making the gaps for Bishops and Rooks to
maneuver
Attacked or impasse
Diagonal thrust
Soon the board is clear of you
You wait in a pile for
End Game
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem