Outside The Furnace- By Aziz Qaisi

Every day, she threw her supple arms,
soft and silken thighs,
young and rounded breasts,
rosy lips and cheeks,
glossy black hair,
her every limb
into the burning furnace.
A thick liquid, gold and silver colored,
set in the hot and cold forms of her breaths,
and then became her body.

One night when she threw her body
into the burning furnace,
the gold and silver would not set,
in the hot and cold forms of her breaths,
first her lips,
and then her cheeks,
and then her arms were sundered,
her hair was scorched,
breasts consumed, waist seared,
thighs parched;
Then the heavy liquid, turning in to jagged gold nuggets,
sank in to her bones until she died.
But her eyes still live,
They say to me:
You also throw the steel of your body,
the glass of your heart,
the same in to the furnace.
Look, everyday and night and every moment,
You, too, are dying, just like me.
Everyone is dying, just like me.
But, take this warning
And save your eyes.

( Note: This poem has been published in some of the most prestigious literary magazines of the world in various languages including English. The original poem is in Urdu)