If my hands were made of pure stainless steel;
I would be able to dismantle the most obdurate of stone; shattering the most acerbic of glass,
At the same time; I would be deprived of the intricate ability to sketch and paint.
If my legs were composed of glistening steel; fortified with surplus fillings
I would be able to trample fearlessly through blistering oceans of lava; kicking mighty barricades of wood hampering my way,
At the same time; I would relinquish the ability to handsomely walk and run.
If my skull was blended with invincible iron; embedded with an amalgamate of strong cement,
I would be able to withstand the most tenacious of blows; rupture brick walls by my mere caress,
At the same time; I would emancipate the ability to majestically fantasize and think.
If my eyes were made of impregnable steel, embellished with an exterior coating of brass,
Hot needles of coal wouldn't make an impact when inserted; and they wouldn't bleed,
At the same time; I would abdicate the power to see; produce volatile tears of empathy.
If the nails on my fingers were made of polished steel,
I would be able to scratch the hardest of wall with nonchalant ease; dig deep fathomless holes in rock ground,
At the same time; I would lose the right to poke my mother.
If the house that I lived in was composed of steel juxtaposed with shards of blotted chrome,
I would sleep all night without the tension of burglars intruding in,
At the same time; I would be deprived of the ravishing scent of grass; and the
gusty winds of nature.
If the clusters of my teeth were made of formidable steel,
I would be able to crack the hardest of coconut; gnaw incessantly at raw slices of unprocessed bone,
At the same time; I would feel embarrassed to smile; kiss my beloved with passionate fervour.
And if my heart was made of high quality resistant steel,
I would be able to withstand the most voracious of body blows; sustaining life
even at high altitudes in the air,
At the same time; It would fail to beat violently when I was supremely in
love; and reminiscing nostalgia of past pain.
- 6 Views
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Український (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Discuss this Nikhil Parekh poem with the community:
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"If My Heart Was Made Of Steel" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 26 Feb. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/50192/if-my-heart-was-made-of-steel>.