Original Ottoman Turkish Text

Metre: fā‘ilātün fā‘ilātün fā‘ilātün fā‘ilün

Nice bir feryâda vara nâle vü âhum sana
Gün gibi rûşen degül mi hâlüm ey mâhum sana
Bir meh-i nâ-mihrbânsın key sakın kim irmeye
Nâle-i şeb-gîr-ile âh-ı seher-gâhum sana
Sana sengîn-dil disem gönlüne katı gelmesün
Taşlara kâr itdi âhir itmedi âhum sana
Zülf-i kec-reftâruna uydumsa güm-râh olmadum
Her ne yüzden gözlesem togru varur râhum sana
Yüz çevürdün ehl-i dilden dil-berâ zülfün gibi
Yohsa yanlış söz mi dir agyâr-ı bed-hâhum sana
Serverâ hüsn-i cihân-efrûzunı bir kez gören
Pâdişâh-ı dehr olursa kul ola şâhum sana
Sâfiyem kim sen Muhammed hürmetiy-çün umaram
Ben şikeste-hâtırı vasl ide Allâh’um sana

In English

1. How long must my moans and sighs cry out to reach you? O my moon, is my state not as plain to you as the sun?

2. You are a loveless, pitiless moon; take good care that my midnight moaning and my sigh at dawn do not reach you. ("Mihr" means both sun and love; the "nâ-mihrbân" moon can be thought of both as loveless and as sunless, that is, a moon with no light of its own. A sigh uttered at night or at dawn is believed to take effect like a curse.)

3. If I call you stony-hearted, let it not weigh hard on your heart; in the end my sighs moved even the stones, yet they did not move you.

4. Though I followed your crooked-going locks, I did not lose my way; from whatever side, whatever face, I look, my road leads straight to you. ("Yüz" means both direction and the beloved's face; the lover who follows the crooked locks arrives at the face, that is, at the beloved.)

5. O heart-ravisher, like your locks you have turned your face from the people of the heart; or do my ill-wishing rivals tell you false things about me? (The locks, hanging down on either side of the face and turned away from it, are imagined as something that "turns its face away".)

6. O noble one, whoever sees once your world-illumining beauty, even if he be the sultan of the age, becomes your slave, O my king.

7. I am Sâfî; I hope, for the sake of Muhammad, that my God will unite me, broken-hearted as I am, with you.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Structure of the Poem

The poem is a ghazal (gazel) of seven couplets in the remel family of aruz (quantitative metre), in the pattern "fā‘ilātün fā‘ilātün fā‘ilātün fā‘ilün". The redif (refrain word) is "sana", to you, and the rhyme is the sound "-âhum": âhum, mâhum, seher-gâhum, râhum, bed-hâhum, şâhum, Allâhum. The word "âhum" appears in rhyme position both in the opening couplet and in the third couplet. The pen name (mahlas) is used in the last couplet in the form "Sâfiyem", I am Sâfî. The text is the one quoted from Ahmet Sevgi and Hakan Sevindik's edition of the divan of Cezerî Kasım Paşa (pp. 117-118) in İsmail E. Erünsal's entry in the Türk Edebiyatı İsimler Sözlüğü (Dictionary of Names in Turkish Literature). To whom and when the ghazal was written is not known.

Meaning and Figures of Speech

The ghazal opens with the lover's reproach that his cries do not reach the beloved. The first two couplets are built on the images of moon and sun. The beloved is "mâh", the moon; the lover's state is as plain as the sun. In the second couplet the beloved is called "meh-i nâ-mihrbân". The phrase can be understood in two ways: since "mihr" means both sun and love, the moon can be thought of both as loveless and pitiless and as sunless, a moon with no light of its own. The link drawn between these two senses of the word is an example of double entendre (tevriye). The lover warns the beloved to take care that his midnight moaning and his sigh at dawn do not reach her. In divan poetry a sigh at dawn is believed to be as effective as a curse; the poet uses this belief as a half-joking, half-serious threat.

The third couplet turns to the image of stone. To call the beloved "stony-hearted" may "weigh hard" ("katı gelmek") on her heart; the word "katı" is both part of the idiom and an adjective that recalls the hardness of stone. The lover's sighs have moved even the stones but have not moved the beloved; this shows her heart to be harder than stone. In the fourth couplet the contrast between crooked and straight comes to the fore. The beloved's locks are "kec-reftâr", crooked-going; whoever follows them would be expected to lose his way. Yet from whatever side, whatever face, the lover looks, his road leads straight to the beloved. The double sense of "yüz", direction and face, is at work here too: whoever follows the locks reaches the face in the end. This contrast between crooked and straight is an example of antithesis (tezat).

In the fifth couplet the locks appear again. They hang down on either side of the face and stand turned away from it; from this image the poet says that the beloved, "like her locks", has turned her face from the people of the heart. He then ascribes this indifference to the rivals: perhaps ill-meaning rivals have told her false things about the lover. The sixth couplet raises the beloved's beauty to its highest point. Whoever sees it once becomes her slave, even if he be the sultan of the age. In this couplet the beloved is addressed as "server" and "şâh", noble one and king. Given that the poem came from the pen of a statesman who served Bayezid II as vizier, the mention of a beauty before which even the sultan would become a slave is striking; the language that portrays the beloved as ruler and the lover as slave is, in divan poetry, the common language of the tradition, independent of the poet's actual rank.

The closing couplet ends in a prayer. The poet hopes that, for the sake of the Prophet, God will unite him, broken-hearted, with the beloved. The mention of the Prophet in the couplet with the pen name, considered together with the fact that Sâfî's divan opens with a kaside to Hüseyin, reflects the poet's religious sensibility. The phrase "şikeste-hâtır", broken-hearted, lets the ghazal that began in reproach close in a humble supplication.

Bibliography

Online sources