It was all set,
just after the start,
but he played in spirit,
which no one could thwart...
he dreamt of the beauty,
that his victory beheld,
and kept on moving,
when there was nothing left...
she tried to explain,
he was in no mood to understand,
waiting for a miracle,
he took his stand...
a miracle did happen,
but not the one he wanted the most,
he played it so beautifully,
the game which he had already lost...
some dont give up,
when theres a single ray of hope,
he held his spirits in the darkness,
when so clearly there was no scope...
he played the game beautifully,
which he had already lost....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem