CHESS by Jorge Luis Borges I In their solemn corner, the players move The slow pieces. The board detains them Until the dawn in its severe world In which two colors hate each other. Within the forms irradiates magic Strictness: Homeric rook, swift Knight, armed queen, crucial king, Oblique bishop and aggressive pawns. Once the players have finally left, Once time has devoured them, Surely the ritual will not have ended. In the orient like this very war flared up Whose amphitheater today is the earth entire. Like the other, the game is infinite. II Weakling king, slanting bishop, relentless Queen, direct rook and cunning pawn Seek and wage their armed battle Across the black and white of the field. They know not that the player’s selected Hand governs their destiny, They know not that a rigor adamantine Subjects their will and rules their day. The player also is a prisoner (The saying is Omar’s) of another board Of black nights and of white days. God moves the player, and he, the piece. Which god behind God begets the plot Of dust and time and dream and agonies? Painting: The Game by Olga Suvorova (b. 1966).
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 19:23:23 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015