Poem by Dr. Alfredo Pasin (English version added)
On 1st September 1972, Boris Spassky resigned the adjourned 21st game of his match against Robert Fischer, which meant an overall 12.5-8.5 win for the American Grandmaster, who was then declared 11th World Chess Champion.
On the exactly same date 20 years later, a returning match had started in Sveti Stefan (today in Montenegro) and concluded later in Belgrade. Fischer won that match, 10 wins to 5 losses, with 15 draws.
Remembering this date, Italian poet Dr. Alfredo Pasin wrote beautiful lyrics to honour the great champion. Professor Robert Mundell, Nobel Prize winner and initiator of the Pearl Spring Chess Tournament, commented “It’s a beautiful poem. I’m sure Bobby would have liked it.”
With help from Mr. Adolivio Capece, Italian Chess Federation.
Il giocatore Bobby
Vi prego non relegate me
Bobby, il giocatore di scacchi,
il piu’ grande che il mondo conobbe
al solo ruolo
di pazzo paranoico alienato
fui questa la verità
un genio un artista uno scienziato
vincitore feroce ma cortese
perdente raro cupo ma dignitoso
privo di lusinghe ed inganni
un artista guerriero
che viveva ancora
secondo le leggi dei samurai
in quel gioco più di tutto cercai
bellezza armonia e verità
lo innalzai a vette infinite
ma non trovai mai
quiete e ristoro
alle mie pene di uomo
forse non fu la pazzia
a portarmi via
ma il vento nero e gelido
e della sua malinconia
BOBBY THE CHESS PLAYER
I beseech you, do not confine me,
Bobby, the chess player,
the greatest one the world could ever know
to the only role
of alienated psychic paranoid.
This was indeed the truth:
I was a genius, an artist and a scientist;
a winner ruthless but chivalrous
a rare loser, somber but still stout;
a warrior artist
free from flattery and cheats,
a warrior still living
according to the laws of Samurai.
In that game, what I have sought at most
’twas Beauty, Harmony and Truth:
I raised it to almost boundless heights
but I never encountered
quiet and refreshment.
Maybe it was not Madness
to bring me away
from my human sufferings;
’twas rather the dark and icy wind
and of its melancholy.