This one I wrote in a short story in which a go player was in a match against someone who seemed to be only trying to spoil all his strategies:
The original is in spanish, here's an attempted translation and the original text, for spanish speakers.
Para ese momento había perdido la concentración por completo. Las jugadas me habian sacado de balance a tal punto que ya no sabía lo que estaba haciendo. Respiré profundamente y estudié nuevamente el tablero. Era un juego simple, había coyunturas que podían aprovecharse. Sin embargo, yo no podía continuarla. Sabía que algunas jugadas podrían ponerme a la delantera con facilidad, pero era inconcebiblemente monstruoso para mí hacerlas. Todas ellas reflejaban en su trasfondo algo completamente ajeno a mí. Conté con calma los puntos del tablero; yo iba ganando.
By that time I had lost my concentration completely. The plays had thrown me out of balance to a point in which I didn't know what I was doing. I breathed deeply and studied once again the board. It was a simple game, there were weak spots that could be exploited. Nevertheless, I couldnt' carry on playing. I knew a few plays could make me get ahead with ease, but it was unconceivably monstrous for me to do them. All of them reflected on their background something completely alien to me. I calmly counted the points on the board; I was winning.
06 Sep 2011, 8:28 pm
