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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal with the redif "ġayri" (other than): a world where only the belt, the cup and the morning breeze may approach the beloved, the müşteri pun and the stony lips.
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 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".
Cûdî's ghazal mixed with jest: a poet who plunges into a sea of honey in a dream, a honey-lipped lying beloved, a dark cave, and headstrong fortune brought to heel in a dream.
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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal likening the beloved's face to a rose garden: beauty set above paradise, the glance-arrow that makes a home in the soul, and the wish to hold the beloved's hem.
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 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.
Cûdî's fable mesnevi of the silkworm and the spider: a spider claiming to be Euclid's teacher, the cave of Thawr, the verse of the frailest of houses, and the silk garments of paradise.
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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal written without the letter elif: a praise poem to a warrior prince, its Sulaymân riddle in abjad numbers, and the question of the Şehzade Süleyman.
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 "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.
Cûdî's poem praising bees as a model of civilization: poet bees with tambour wings, a king who is an English queen, the orderly hive city, the sura al-Nahl, and man who steals the honey.
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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal on a beauty beyond painter and word: Mânî the legendary painter, the visit to a broken heart worth a pilgrimage, and the glad tidings of union drummed like a conquest.
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.
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.
Cûdî's ecstatic ghazal "Şatahât": a poet to whom no mote is a stranger, the heavens as his snare, the stars as his moths, the sun as his cup, and "whatever you see is my tale".
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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal with the "nice bir" lament: love as a bad bargain, the censorious sufi, the rope-dancer on the beloved's tress, and the lover who runs from the rival's barking.
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.
Cûdî's poem on the way of Abraham: star, moon and sun that set, Pharaoh and Nimrod who said "I am the most high", Âzer before the idols, and the oneness of God witnessed by reason.
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.
Mihrî Hatun's nazire to Necâtî with the redif "beni": the blood-drinking eyes, the water wheel that weeps for the lover, and a plea to be killed rather than left to suffer.
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.
Cûdî's poem on the common root of religions: a first revelation imprinted in nature and reason, the call to a common word in Qur'an 3:64, and a bleak verdict on religions turned into interests.
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.
Mihrî Hatun's ghazal of a vanished beloved: each couplet names one beauty and asks "where is she?", with the odd refrain "ḳanda durur ḳanda iki" and a pun on "nişân".
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.
Cûdî's kaside on the Macedonian town of Karaferye (Veria): a town like a young girl on the bed of coquetry, green mountains, waterfalls, the place chosen by Hızır, and a climate of inspiration.
Karekod · QR code
Bu sayfanın karekodudur. A5 olarak yazdırıp asabilir ya da yapıştırabilirsiniz; okutan kişi doğrudan bu içeriğe ulaşır.
This QR code links to this page. Print it on A5 and post it anywhere; scanning it opens this content.