A full-fledged sonnet, though, I failed to write
However sweetly rang the night-bird's sighs
But fondling pawn-tops and twin castles' thighs
I worried the enigma till the light.
I made it, haunt and hecatomb despite
With you by night lit up by joyous cries
Unstable stars swimming in streaming skies
And darkling leaves stirred by the poet's right.
My Spaniard and my gnome, my Philidor
You see it here spread out your eyes before
Pieces, though few, with harmony imbued
By lunar glow enhancing pale and jet
While I performed enraptured, you subdued
Perfected on your chessboard my sonnet.