  My king, my queen, the castle twain, each bishop, pawn and knight, I led them into battle by the flick’ring candle light. I led them into combat ’gainst a genius at the game, And the candles all were laughing as I sought to hide my shame. But the little silver chessmen that were wrought in Samarcand Caught the spirit of crusaders there upon the teakwood stand. The warriors all murmured, while the monarch moved to lean And voice his plan of action to his understanding queen: “For the sake of all the trumpeters who had to sound retreat— For the sake of all beginners who have gone down to defeat; “We will fight, no human guiding, for a lovely lady’s fame, And we’ll run our counter-gambit to a checkmate in the game.” Oh, the glory of that battle, thunder marching in the ranks; The castles staunchly standing, and the proud pawns on the flanks. The queen with her litter and the king upon the right Spurred on each knight and bishop in the fury of the fight ’Mid the stone piles of his slingers surged my men of Samarcand, And we conquered our opponent on that polished teakwood stand. Thus reality was riven by the wisdom of a wraith, By the images inanimate that fought for love and faith; By the images inanimate that came from Samarcand To show their knightly courtesy upon a teakwood stand. |
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