Winning Poem by Lydia Martin
Winning
If crashing sounds of knights and kings,
Leaves nothing but a box of old bones,
Fear not the vision of ladies dancing.
Dice are thrown with the hopes of many.
But give the play a chance to resume.
Give your opponents a queen of desire,
Yet never reveal your utmost pleasure.
For the winning move shall remain in secret.
The treasure of revenge is like stale old bones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 11:07:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
