They're in
No great hurry
They gather themselves
At the corner table
In the coffee shop
Of the bookstore
A leisurely sip
A bite of the cake
A round up dialogue
Of week's happenings
It's only then
They open the bag
Spread the vinyl
Chessboard unrolled
Arrange the pieces
With undue care
They start the game
With a handshake
A friendly gesture
Before the combat
They're in a world
Unto themselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A friendly game, a true gamespirit.Well written.