Each couplet counts a lack, and the refrain is built on the Turkish suffix "-suz": faithless, measureless, without cure. A heart without love falls to ruin like a land without a sultan.
The poet asks with "I said" and a nameless company answers with "they said"; the cure is sought from a mouth that hardly exists, and two last couplets turn to God's pardon.
Münîrî's ghazal rhyming in "-âc": moons bringing tribute to the crown of beauty, bloody tears stamped like coin on gold, the pulse of the flask, and death's poison as the only cure.
Prince Bayezid's only murabba in the muzari metre: a beauty seen on a rose-viewing outing and a one-line portrait in the refrain "moon-faced, cypress-statured, rose-scented".
A ghazal that calls the beloved up from the heart to the eye like a migration to summer pastures: a lover who will not part though turned to ash, a garden all eyes and ears, a smile.
Karabağ's Aras joins the Oxus, the Nile and the Euphrates, the heart's bell calls the caravan to the road, and gnostics hold falcons while ascetics hold a fly.
Münîrî's ghazal found only in the Vatican manuscript: a heart that runs like wind or is struck with palsy, the threshold's dust, a soul sold for a kiss, and the rival as Gog's guide.
Prince Bayezid's murabba of only two stanzas, without a pen name: a stanza where the verb "geçmek" changes meaning in every line, and a poem that may be incomplete.
A ghazal likening the eyes reflected in tears to two gazelles at a spring: the Pleiades as sandal nails, a bouquet bound as a crimson Mecnun, and a tress-tip opening its mouth in wonder.
A boast that counts Plato and Aristotle as pupils, yet its footing is lineage: the gift of speech comes from the Prophet, Câmi‘u'l-kelim, and the poet gives his age as forty.
Münîrî's libertine ghazal: a tavern boy for whom the lover's blood is lawful, a cup in the rose season, the daughter of the vine remarried, and a heart flying with the holy falcon.
Prince Bayezid's murabba with the refrain "He who adorned your beauty made me mad for you": love as written fate and a plea at the threshold not to count it a sin.
The refrain "in the shape of" recasts everything: the lover as a weeping cloud, dew as teeth, the brow as a heading on a patent; the peacock once expelled from Paradise guards its door.
The refrain "mı var" puts the same question to the ascetic two, three or four times without answer, and jingling internal rhymes end the list with passion, longing and tevellâ.
The ghazal Ersoy cites for Münîrî's love poetry: a violet bruised from prostration, a litany rising from every hair, and the drunkenness of the feast of pre-eternity.
Prince Bayezid's murabba with the refrain "attain your wish, my padishah; you have granted me mine": the only joyful poem among his murabbas and thanks for a reunion.
Roses pour from the lip, rubies and pearls from the eye, blood from the glance; a mirror shows the beloved her cruelty, fire threatens the Throne and wine flows from the heart.
Münîrî's feast ghazal with the refrain "-ı ‘īd": a lover ready to be sacrificed, a feast fallen ill without union, a feast that bids repentance be broken, and henna of blood.
Whoever is caught on the tress falls into the chin's well, singing ghazals falls to Nigârî, and in the last couplet fighting the Muscovite falls to the lion of Daghestan.
Münîrî's ghazal also copied into anthologies: stature and brow as the alif and madda of "âmennâ", a heart watching the sun from the chin's well, a dervish in felt, and rue seed.
A ghazal with the line "not to see you is hard, to see you is not easy either": soul and beloved, melted arrowheads, a hell smaller than separation, a crescent finger in the sky's mouth.
In nine of eleven couplets the poet asks "I said"; lovers take up the Trust that earth and heaven refused, the beloved is manifest yet hidden, and the preacher is one who brays.
The ghazal whose opening couplet Ersoy cites as a rhyme example: moles like rue seeds against the evil eye, a heart climbing the rope of a lock, a sealed mouth and poetry like sugar.
Every couplet says "come" to someone: the heart to Ferhad's service, the ascetic to the guide, the king to the heart's throne. In the last, the voice that calls waits to be called.
A wind that roams evening and morning, the people of vision answering the world's self-adorning beauty, a heart mad for the pre-eternal Leyla and pearls from an unknown sea.
Münîrî's ghazal rhyming in "-ûd", recorded in an anthology under the heading "Münîrî-i Kâdî": the envious eye, the smoke of a sigh that harms a rose branch, and the mourning violet.
A ghazal opening with a murder inquiry: a vanished mouth as the suspect for hearts slain in the hair, a glow-worm heart, jealousy of a reflection, and a sea of mud made of tears.
Every joy of the heart is traced to a source, the Family of the Cloak, Ali who opened Khaybar, Naqshband's Bahâ and the Prophet, in a lineage told partly in chess terms.
Münîrî's ghazal of letter play, preserved only in the Vienna copy: eye, stature and lock spelling "ṣād", a mole like black pepper, and a heart filled with alif, lām, mīm, ṣād.
A lover who cannot reach the beloved's hand asks leave to kiss her foot: a nightingale caged with a crow, a decree of down, long hope outlasting cut tresses, and a first response to Necâtî.
Nothing comes of madrasa debate and the seeker arrives only through a guide: kiss his hand, take favour from the cypress-statured, and beware the arrows of a praying heart.
Münîrî's ghazal that builds words from letters: "ṣad" (a hundred) written by eye and lock, "cesed" (body) joined from teeth and lock, and "Allāhü'ṣ-ṣamed" said with sincerity.
A song-like ghazal in a short metre with the refrain "my little lord": the slave is yours, what is it to me; a threefold play on "al"; times do not stay like this; the poem as a pretext.
Stature, resurrection, station, dwelling and uprightness grow from one root; the Tuba tree bows its head in shame, the dove leaves the cypress, and blame turns into safety.
Münîrî's ghazal with the refrain "-dan leziz": a lip sweeter than life, a heart that takes sorrow's poison for sherbet, an unripe promise no tears can ripen, and sighs.
A list of losses with the refrain "I have parted from": a lip of honey and a rose-petal cheek, the cry "see what I have parted from", tears like the Pleiades, and an angel-natured human.
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