I move a white day,
He moves a black day.
I go forward with a dream,
He takes it from me to war,
I think in the hospital for an year,
I do a brilliant tactic
And win a black day from him.
He moves a misfortune
And threatens me with cancer
(Which is going in a cross shape for now),
But I put a book in his face
And compel him to withdraw.
I win a few more of his pieces,
But, look, half of my life
Is sidelined.
- I'll give you check and you'll be losing optimism,
Says he to me.
- Ain't nothing, I joke,
I am castling the feelings.
Behind me my wife and children,
The sun, the moon and the other onlookers
Tremble for each of my moves.
I light myself a cigarette
And carry on with the game.
Translator: Vasile Andreica
see more poems written by: Marin Sorescu
