The lover counts what the beloved never did, the refrain "you did not" carrying the list. Honey turns to sting, and the word "teftīş" makes the complaint read like a petition.
The Turkish suffix "-lik", joined to Persian and Arabic roots, makes the whole rhyme. Hair and stature teach the plants of Irem, and Ca'fer, melted by grief, asks "is this manliness?"
A ground poem to which Kemalpaşazâde and Necâtî wrote responses: down accused as a forged script, a heart of steel, lovers drawn on one page like Leylâ and Mecnun, design and destiny.
If the lover weeps, his tears will wash away the kohl of dust, so he will not weep. The rhymes sound like Turkish past-tense verbs, and the word "gerd" returns in two senses.
A ghazal built on a mouth that hides from its creditors: flies swarming on other beauties' lips, an eglantine turned to thorns, a shirt that draws the beloved in, and Nizâmî's ground.
The lover swears by the dust of the beloved's feet, and that dust is also what the oath is about. In this fourth ghazal on "yours", shooting stars are the fiery arrows of sighs.
A funeral testament with the refrain "when one dies": a lover with no one left to mourn him, a corpse washed in rose water and shrouded in tulips, a rival's mockery, a martyr of love.
The opening ends on the Arabic saying "like inclines to like": the cypress leans to the stature it resembles. People come to watch the lover's tears as Egyptians watched the Nile in flood.
A ghazal with the refrain "ruby" whose opening is almost identical to one by Mesîhî: a ruby blushing with shame, ruby tears on thorn-lashes, a stone coloured by the sun, a heart that breaks.
A spring ghazal that turns "to the knowing one a sign is enough" into "a single rose is enough": sidelong glances, hot-blooded wine and a raw cup, and a hyacinth in mourning black.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
The poet states within the ghazal that rose and nightingale stand for beloved and lover. The rhymes come from the Arabic tafa‘‘ul pattern: taḫayyül, tefe’’ül, tevekkül, teġāfül.
The band that plays at dawn at the sultan's gate becomes, at the beloved's door, the lover's morning cry. His sigh burns the stars like rue seed; the ground is Sultan Cem's ghazal.
A ghazal of a secret kept with the refrain "I will not say who she is": a body split like a comb, a lover burned like a candle, a shirt bloodied by the stick, a beloved with a ringed ear.
A ghazal that opens with a beloved gone off in a temper: moods of reproach and coquetry, a thousand words not worth a hair, a parallel couplet, and a lover undone by one look.
The lover came upon a moon-faced one, and his morning turned to evening. A single glance brings disaster on his head, and the rival's breath, like bad air, gives him fever.
The breeze lifts the lover like a speck of dust to the beloved's door, so his gratitude runs "from earth to sky". In another couplet the Anka is hunted with a gnat's net.
A short ghazal of a weak lover who will count himself a champion if he saves his life: enriched rhyme, a dry autumn leaf, a waning moon of hope and bones that would hurt the beloved's foot.
The ghazal is tied to the Night of the Ascension and names the beloved "a moon-faced Mustafa". The sky shows its moon in envy; the lover would rather see her face than Paradise.
A mülemma ghazal alternating Persian and Turkish couplets: a bubble as a tent, an amulet written with evening and dawn, closed tavern doors and Câfer Çelebi's Persian.
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