Having thrice perused the contents of my heart, I pondered awhile the virtue of victory, and sought the sound of losses’ lament.
Do I lust for the carnal delight of triumph? Or covet I the righteous skill?
Do I seek to lift my hand o’er the peasant’s prowess? Or prove my ilk to the higher beings?
Am I true a Noble Lord, in spirit sound and moral?
Or savor I my neighbor’s blood, while bewailing my loss in sorrow?
And as in uffish thought I stood, betwixt the shadows of vanity and shame;
Occurred in my mind a gentle thought, within whose grace I knew my name.
For all at once I sat atop a mountain far from the Kingdom of men,
Across a board from a man in shade whose eyes held secrets like lanterns dim,
Whose steady hand laid stone to wood as stars lay claim to the night,
And in whose shape I heard the truth, and saw my game in a holier light.