Münîrî likens the curl to the snake guarding the treasure of beauty, counts love's calamities whose names he never heard, and sees the stars as blisters raised by his burning sigh.
In this ghazal with the refrain "like", Münîrî sets the heavens alight with his sigh, likens the glances to a comb that pierces the heart, and remains a moth round the candle after death.
In this ghazal with the refrain "like", Münîrî makes the eye the door of the heart and likens the hoofprint to a mihrab, tears to water-wheel jars, and a tear to trembling quicksilver.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal, held to be a nazire to Hâfız: it speaks of severing Tahmasb's head and taking Samarkand and Bukhara, and reached the shah, says Solakzâde.
In this ghazal Münîrî likens the mole to the grain of bait that traps the heart's bird, shows an elif-like stature bending the lover into a dâl, and puns on "al" as trick and red.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "nîst": the tale of Khosrow and Shirin becomes the poet's own story, eyelashes comb the beloved's tresses and love demands a ghazal.
Münîrî plays on the verb "bitmek" as to end and to sprout, refuses to give up the beloved despite the down on the face, and says even the dog of the street has forgotten him.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "nîst": the afflicted want no cure, the lover no water of life, and the closing couplet plays on the word "ân", indefinable charm.
In this ghazal Münîrî makes the tress lâm and dâl and the brow nûn to spell "ledün", swells his tears from a flood into the Ceyhun, and turns the lover's yellow face into gold.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "şod": tresses that tread on the Mushaf of the face, a crescent turned full moon and a lover moaning like the nightingale.
Münîrî makes the lover's liver-blood a feast for the glance, turns tress and brow into lâm and nûn to spell "len terânî", and shows the lover ground to henna-like flour in the mill.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "heme dânend": the trace of a face in the rose, a scent in Khotan musk and the passion for black hair; now everyone knows of this love.
In this plain-spoken ghazal Münîrî speaks of the lover who ate his blood money before dying, the glass heart smashed by stone, and blames Hacı Bektaş's curse for his failure.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "üftâd": hair tangled by sighs, tears poured like Zamzam around the Kaaba of the street and a warning about the cup of Jamshid.
Münîrî puns on Hüseyn and Hüseynî, likens his tears to the "two kulle" of pure water known from Islamic law, and counts the soul an interest-free loan from the beloved's lip.
Prince Bayezid's Persian prayer ghazal with the refrain "şod": a sin past all bounds, a world laid low by wrath, a hand from the well of sin and the hope of leaving rebellion.
Münîrî values the twofold tress at the price of China and Khitai, plays on the nightingale's "berg ü nevâ" and the poor lover's livelihood, and calls the soul a cheap price for a kiss.
Prince Bayezid's Persian prayer ghazal, almost a twin of Persian Ghazal 7: guilt beyond number, a heart pressed like a bud, a face red as a tulip and a closing word of thanks.
Münîrî calls for pure wine in the season of the rose and tells of a beauty veiled from the ascetic in light, a pierced reed flute that sets the harp moaning, and a sea of tears.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "henûz": a lover left wingless in pursuit of a Huma-like beloved, stripped of his wealth, who counts even a stone at his head a favour.
Münîrî writes of a lip that withholds the fountain of life, the brand left by the mole on the heart, a mouth so small it is "nothing", and bloody tears as the heart's tulip garden.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal without a redif: heart and faith lost to a silver-eared idol, the peace of hearts who steals peace, a sip from a ruby lip and the cypress's shade.
Münîrî plays on "hürmet" as respect and as prohibition, ascribes the forbiddenness of wine to its imitation of the ruby lip, and finds a resurrection in the beloved's stature.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal closing with Arabic phrases: a beloved fairer than any child of Rıdvan and a houri, and a closing couplet that backs a plea for a kiss with a verse.
Münîrî seeks a way to rub his face on the threshold, kisses the beloved's dog's footprint by moonlight, rejoices at the arrowhead in his heart and weeps blood once salt tears are gone.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "men": tresses that steal faith, a pain no remedy in Avicenna's Kânûn and Şifâ can cure, and a petition at the gate of a sultan.
Münîrî likens the beloved's face to a harvest of roses, turns the other beauties into gleaners of that harvest, and, weary of the world's thorns, chooses the furnace over the garden.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal on which Çeşmî wrote a tahmis: pain from the heavens, no loyalty from kin, tears like the Oxus and a plea to the shah of the world to ask after him.
Münîrî writes of an arm that will not wind round his neck like a sword-belt, a candle that deserves its tongue cut, a dark mole casting pepper into fire, and the candle of Çigil.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "men": a bud-mouthed, rose-cheeked beloved, an exhausted reply to the advice that patience finds loyalty, and a heart taken by one glance.
In this plain ghazal Münîrî tells of fate's bow strung like the brow, the love he once mocked now befalling him, the quarter that is paradise, and a hidden burning that cannot stay hidden.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal addressed to the "sultan of sea and land": a poem of reproach to a ruler who raises his enemy's worth and does not hear the cries of his servant.
In the last of his Turkish ghazals Münîrî tells of a lip that could teach the Messiah miraculous speech, the proverb of the single hand, and his poetry heard across the inhabited world.
Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazal with the refrain "hemîşe": a beloved watched from afar, a vision in which seer and seen are one, and a warning not to be proud of transient fortune.
In Münîrî's first tuyugh the lover seized by love has no patience left, and the finger of imagination holds the beloved's strand of hair until the day of reckoning.
The last of Prince Bayezid's Persian ghazals: a beloved who is God's shadow over the realm of beauty, sovereignty without love counted a fable, and a double meaning on the word "Şâhî".
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