Original Ottoman Turkish Text

Metre: fâilâtün fâilâtün fâilâtün fâilün (remel; the pattern is not in the edition, we measured the "saña" lines ourselves)

Ağlasa derd-i derûnum çeşm-i giryânum saña
Âşikâr olurdı gâlib râz-ı pinhânum saña
Mesned-i hüsn üzre sen ben hâk-i rehde pây-mâl
Mûr hâlin niçe ‘arz ide Süleymânum saña
Şem‘i gör kim meclisüñde ağlayup başdan çıkar
Hoş yanar yakılur ey şem‘-i şebistânum saña
Subh gibi sâdık olduğum reh-i ‘ışkuñda ben
Gün gibi rûşen-durur ey mâh-ı tâbânum saña
Dün rakîbüñ cevrini men‘ eyledüñ ben hasteden
Eyledi te’sîr gûyâ âh ü efgânum saña
Zahm-ı hicrân şerhi çün mümkin degüldür dostum
Sîne-çâkinden haber virsün girîbânum saña
Eyleme göñlin gözin cevr ile ‘Avnî’nüñ harâb
Dürr [ü] gevherler virür bu bahr ile kânum saña

In English

1. (O beloved,) if my tearful eye wept and poured out the pain within me, my hidden secret would surely become plain to you.

2. You sit on the throne of beauty, while I lie trampled in the dust of the road; O my Solomon, how can the ant lay its state before you?

3. O candle that lights my nights, look at this candle: weeping in your gathering and beside itself, how sweetly it burns and blazes for you.

4. O my shining moon, it is as plain to you as day that on the path of your love I am as true as the dawn (as true as the true dawn, subh-ı sâdık).

5. Yesterday you kept the rival's cruelty away from me, the sick one; it seems my sighs and laments have moved you.

6. My friend, since it is impossible to tell the wound of separation, let my torn collar tell you how my breast has been rent.

7. Do not ruin Avnî's heart and eye with cruelty; for this sea (my eye) and this mine (my heart) give you pearls and jewels.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Structure of the Poem

All seven couplets close on "saña" (to you), a redif (refrain word) that turns each of them towards the beloved. The rhyme before the redif is the syllable "-ânum" in the words "giryânum, pinhânum, Süleymânum, şebistânum, tâbânum, efgânum, girîbânum, kânum"; the first-person possessive suffix repeats in every couplet the voice of the "I" speaking to the beloved. The flowing four-foot pattern of the remel metre suits the rhythm of telling one's pain.

Meaning and Figures of Speech

The ghazal's main question is less the pain itself than the possibility of telling it: how is the lover to make what is inside him heard by the beloved? The opening couplet's answer is tears; for Doğan, "to weep" here means less shedding tears than bringing the inner pain out into the open. The second couplet asks the same question through a story. In the Sura of the Ant (Neml) of the Qur'an, as Solomon's army approaches, the leader of the ants tells the others to go into their dwellings, and Solomon, hearing its words, smiles. Avnî likens the beloved to a Solomon in all his splendour and power, and himself to an ant about to be crushed in the dust of the road. In the story the ant's voice did reach Solomon; in the couplet the ant is still looking for a way to make itself heard.

The candle of the third couplet is a favourite image of divan poetry. With its eye-like flame and the wax that runs drop by drop from its base, the candle is a mirror of the lover who weeps and wastes away while lighting up the gathering. Addressing the beloved as "şem'-i şebistân" (candle of the night chamber) sets two candles side by side: one is the beloved's light, the other the candle that burns for its sake.

The word "subh" (dawn) in the fourth couplet carries a piece of natural knowledge. Before daybreak the horizon brightens briefly and darkens again; this is called the false dawn (subh-ı kâzib). The true brightening that follows brings the sun and is called "subh-ı sâdık", the true dawn. The lover likens his faithfulness to this true dawn and calls it as plain as "day": dawn, day and moon form a congruence of images (tenasüp) in one couplet. The fifth couplet is the only moment of hope in the ghazal; yesterday the beloved held back the rival, which means the lover's lament has reached her. The sixth couplet gives a last answer to the problem of telling: the wound of separation does not fit into words, and only a collar torn in grief can show it. The word "şerh" means both explanation and slit; the torn collar becomes a "şerh", an explanation. The last couplet likens the eye to the sea and the heart to a mine; tears like pearls come from the eye, jewels like rubies from the blood-filled heart. Avnî asks that this treasure not be laid waste.

Bibliography

  • Fâtih Sultan Mehmed (Avnî), Fâtih Dîvânı ve Şerhi / Dīwān of Sultan Mehmed II with Commentary, ed. Muhammet Nur Doğan, English trans. Michael D. Sheridan, 3rd ed., Istanbul: Türkiye Yazma Eserler Kurumu Başkanlığı, 2023, poem 2, pp. 99-101 (manuscript: Millet, Ali Emîrî Manzum 305, fol. 1b). https://ekitap.yek.gov.tr/urun/fatih-divani-ve-serhi--ucuncu-baski-_794.aspx

Online sources