The dining chairs are sighing,
wishing they felt your energetic weight
swinging on to them.
The couch insists it’s a boat
and demands to be launched
to sail off to an island inhabited by only us.
The television’s black face is dumb
and the CD player’s been gagged
because they spoke of your absence.
The table groans,
but not with your loving offerings
of tea and dinners.
The water in the pipes trickles
and whispers,
“Satisfied? Wish away, fool! ”
And the books on the shelves
clamour, “We miss him, our master,
you have driven him away”
and I am silent
in this you-less room.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There are people with charisma who can enlighten a room and animate the inanimate objects. When they leave the world is not the same...and one feels more attached to the objects. I like the choir of the books on the shelves “We miss him, our master, you have driven him away”, the guilty feelings talking through the objects of a common use. Lovely animated poem.