Started with level one and won the game,
Confident, I increased the level to two,
Won the game once again,
More confident and increased the level to three,
and then to four.
My confidence now crossed the limit of my brain,
I increased the level to its maximum,
Very soon I realized I am going to lose this game,
Hell with the chess!
My computer has infinite number of games!
While I was going to switch over to another game
I heard cries of the king,
I heard cries of the queen,
I heard cries of the bishop,
and cries of all other mighty ones.
I ignored all the mighty voices,
but suddenly I listened to the week and feeble voices,
voices of the pawns crying and praying.
To my surprise they were calling me god!
For a moment I really became a god.
I regret!
I came back to the level,
that's my limit.
The board became a stage.
The king started dancing with the queen,
the bishop marching in an oblique order,
the straight forward rooks,
the horses jumping with the joy,
and the poor pawns sacrificing their lives
for the mighty king,
as usual.
Cries! ! ! Muse of the chess; Voices and choices. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Lovely analogy, but I often wonder if there is some method in the madness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a wonderful poem about the game--be it chess or life---poor pawns sacrificing their lives.