You dwell in a fixed territory,
No one bother to check your legs.
They come and sit,
They get up and walk away.
No thank yous,
No complaining.
Guess you were made for this,
For once in a while
They scrape you down,
Even add a little varnish
So you can glister in the lights.
But this they do for their own comfort;
Still you stay put
For you are only a chair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem