Treasure Island

Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

(1207 - 1273 / Persia)

I am a sculptor, a molder of form


I am a sculptor, a molder of form.
In every moment I shape an idol.
But then, in front of you, I melt them down
I can rouse a hundred forms
and fill them with spirit,
but when I look into your face,
I want to throw them in the fire.
My souls spills into yours and is blended.
Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,
I cherish it.
Every drop of blood I spill
informs the earth,
I merge with my Beloved
when I participate in love.
In this house of mud and water,
my heart has fallen to ruins.
Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.

Submitted: Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (I am a sculptor, a molder of form by Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Like Jews Harps, Francie Lynch
  2. Inner Power, Col Muhamad Khalid Khan
  3. Start anew, gajanan mishra
  4. BACK TO SCHOOL, MOHAMMAD SKATI
  5. Melancholia (haiku), hap rochelle
  6. قصه ماه 1, ALI MOSLEHI
  7. life is fair........., RIC S. BASTASA
  8. when you are alone you become a thinker, RIC S. BASTASA
  9. all dirty clothes wrapped in cellophane, RIC S. BASTASA
  10. the way i want it, RIC S. BASTASA

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]