the king ruled in his empty room
guarding his kingdom against endless doom
his armies stood vigilant on a checkered board
and on the wall hung a rusted sword
he moved a piece in the endless game
as the skeleton across him did the same
he felt a familiar feeling
he looked up at the ceiling
the chandelier dark and cobbed by spiders
once it lit the feasts of a thousand riders
he returns to the all important game
his opponent forgot his own name
but he is the lord and king
he wears the glowing royal ring
all the darkness bows to him when he stands
all the shadows follow his whim and commands
but he is to tired to think
he topples on the darkest brink
he cant remember, how long has it been?
once there were world through his window to be seen
now its just stars and dark abyss covered in grime
an empire of gold stolen away by time
these days he plays this game of the rook
as in his youth the world he shook
once he rode on a blinding steed
but he was toppled by his own greed
no followers left to kiss his toes
no soldiers left to string their bows
not even enemies care to invade
just him and skeletons in this empty keep he made
somewhere in the shadows dark water gradually does drip
and the tapestries on the wall with age start to rip
he took what he could when he wanted to
and everything valuable into dark rooms he threw
the bones sitting across from him
moves a piece and topples the little king
outside in the dark falls old rain
as the board is cleared and the game starts again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem