Marije Langelaar: 'Stoel' in English

Chair

I was standing next to a table and it disturbed me that I was

so alone and suddenly I heard a tapping extremely

faint to be sure but something was making itself known.

It was so subtle I had to kneel down, then I found the

chair and I touched the wood the way you touch a tongue, I

placed my finger in a grain, immediately twilight

fell and creatures were standing around us.

By now I was not much larger than a pinpoint and

internally intoxicated the chair was sending me its thoughts, somewhat

technically but followed by the rustling of trees before briefly,

for two or three seconds, I became a chair. It was blissful, blissful

that wood in my vertebrae! The tapping in my leg, a state of being

without blood or thoughts. And stand still for ever. And

raised. And always that function and an

inner swaying, derived from the trees.

To see the original poem, go to here