The Game
Written by Nikos Moschovos
The Quintessence of the moment remains.
Nothing else.
Neither the tears from your eyes
Nor the laughter of childhood.
No hatred frightens you
if love looks you in the eyes.
Occasionally, through the centuries,
it is the game that determines.
The Act went by
it became a distant fog,
memory of the unsaid images
treasured up in the chest of the heart.
The Joy of the moment remains.
When little Janus sings
nobody listens to the hymn.
What he left behind is what was left behind
Nothing else through the centuries
it is the game that determines.
A trivial mask he wears
He’s not scared of its shell.
Alien arrows, unrecognizable paths
forgotten in the oblivion of the past
Emotion dead.
Absolute Zero, time goes by.
Dreams of seashores, illusory paintings
Recorded in the book of his memory.
He only seeks one Word
in the eternity he aims
like a faraway star he illuminates
It is the game that determines.
About the Poem
The poem “The Game” was recited by Nikos Moshovos at the 15th World Congress of Poets (held from August 26 to September 4, 1994, in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan).
The same poem was presented in an art exhibition of poetic works held in Kaohsiung during the World Congress of Poets.
This poem is included in a printed poetry collection of Nikos Moschovos entitled “The Flight of Little Janus – Poems 1991-1995″ (“Elytro” publications, Thessaloniki 1995, ISBN 960-7624-03-3).
This poetry collection was republished in 2013 as an eBook (PDF) by “Online Book Publications: NMOS – NIKOLAOS MOSCHOVOS” (Thessaloniki 2013, ISBN-978-960-90172-2-0).
At this stage, this poetry collection is not “published” in a printed book, but only on the internet.
All copyrights are reserved.
©Nikos Moschovos 2026
