He sits in a chair
Whose fourth leg’s his.
He loves this chair.
They used to make love in it.
That was when the chair
Had four plus two plus two,
Eight legs. Days with legs.
Since then there’s been a lot of walking out.
Now the chair’s short of a leg
And he’s lending his.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so beautiful. Lovers and their everlasting appetite for melancholy. Superb