January 28, 2013

In dreams and apparitions I arise,

aloft on wings of gold,

tempting forth luckless wishes.

I make my playground betwixt heaven and earth,

astride a torrent of smokeless fire.

If I bring thee fortune, it is because I so choose

yet my ruby-eyed dice rattle the name: “mischief”.


A game I play in measureless deeps,

skipping amongst sprites,

taking maidens, leaving sheep.

With thunderous voice, I scatter the four winds,

play Solomon’s chords on my flute.

If I shake mountains, it is because I so please

yet my diamond-shod feet make no sound.


You do not dare summon me,

rouse the ifrit’s fiery heart,

stitch together star-crossed portals.

Know, my wages destroy those faint of heart,

but raise palaces from rubbish heaps.

Come closer, mortal, your wish is my command

yet only if the chips fall rightly.