Original Ottoman Turkish Text

Metre: Feʻilātün feʻilātün feʻilātün feʻilün

Perteviñ mehde degil mihr-i münevverde de yoḳ
Ḫamrāıñ mülde degil hem gül-i aḥmerde de yoḳ
Genc-i ḥüsnüñ oḳudur ḥıfẓ ider ol zülf-i dü-tā
Mār-ı pür-semde degil bil ki bir ejderde de yoḳ
Nedir ol būy ki şehā ṭurre-i ṭarrārıñda
Nāfe-i müşgde degil micmer-i Ꜥanberde de yoḳ
Ḳadd-ı bālāña nice cūy gibi meyl itmeye dil
Naḫl-ı Tūbāda degil serv ile ꜤarꜤarda da yoḳ
Neşʾe-i cām-ı lebiñ ġayr ile aṣlā bulmam
Sāġar-ı meyde degil kāse-i sükkerde de yoḳ
Öyle ḳan dökmede çeşmiñ dil-i bīmārımdan
Tīġ teberānda degil nīze [vü] ḫançerde de yoḳ
Dilde bir tābişi var Mihrī-i zārıñ şimdi
ŞemꜤ-i sūzānda degil sūziş-i aḥkerde de yoḳ

In English

1. Your radiance is not in the moon, nor in the shining sun; the redness of your cheek and lip is not in wine, nor in the red rose.

2. That twofold-bent tress guards the treasure of your beauty; know that such guardianship is not in the venom-filled snake, nor in any dragon. (In divan poetry a snake or dragon guards a hidden treasure; the beloved's coiling tress is likened to the serpent guarding the beauty of her face. The reading of "oḳudur" in the first line is not clear; the sense of the couplet rests on the verb "guards".)

3. My sultan, what is that scent in your heart-stealing forelock, which is neither in the musk pod nor in the censer where amber is burnt.

4. How could the heart not incline, flowing like a stream, towards your tall stature; such a stature is not in the Tuba tree of Paradise, nor in the cypress and the juniper. (In divan poetry the cypress grows by the water; the lover's tears or heart become a stream and flow to the beloved's cypress-like stature.)

5. The delight of the cup of your lip I could never find with anyone else; it is not in the wine goblet, nor in the bowl of sugar.

6. Your eye sheds blood from my sick heart in such a way that this bloodshedding is not in the sword and the axe, nor in the spear and the dagger. (The beloved's glance is imagined as a weapon that wounds the lover.)

7. In the heart of the lamenting Mihrî there is now such a burning that it is not in the burning candle, nor in the heat of the live coal.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Structure of the Poem

This ghazal is not found in Mihrî Hatun's divan. It appears, under the pen name (mahlas) Mihrî, on folio 59b of a poetry anthology of unknown compiler and date, registered under number 43 Va 2871 in the Kütahya Vahid Paşa Provincial Public Library. Mutlu Muhammet Aktaş, who published the anthology, says that none of the twenty ghazals in it is found in the known manuscripts of the divan, but also that he has come across no information suggesting that they belong to some other poet with the pen name Mihrî. A comparison of language, style and form leads him to regard it as a strong possibility that these ghazals belong to Mihrî Hatun, but he also states openly that a firm judgment cannot be reached. The poem should therefore be read as a text under Mihrî Hatun's name whose attribution has not been settled.

The ghazal has seven couplets (beyit) and is composed in the remel metre, in the aruz (quantitative metre) pattern "Fe‘ilâtün fe‘ilâtün fe‘ilâtün fe‘ilün". The rhyme (kafiye) is built on the sound "-er" (münevver, aḥmer, ejder, ‘anber, ‘ar‘ar, sükker, ḫançer, aḫker), and the "de yoḳ" that follows is the redif (refrain word). The most striking feature of the ghazal is that all the second lines are cast in the same mould: "…de degil, …de de yoḳ" (it is neither in this nor in that). In each couplet a quality of the beloved is mentioned, and then it is said that this quality is not found even in the two strongest examples known in the world. When listing the similarities between the anthology ghazals and the divan, Aktaş records that the word "yok" is also used as a redif in the divan; the divan's seventy-sixth ghazal is likewise built on the redif "-ası yoḳ". There is no information on to whom or on what occasion the ghazal was written.

Meaning and Figures of Speech

The poem as a whole is a series of comparisons that try to prove the beloved's uniqueness. In couplets of this kind the beloved's quality is placed above the thing she is likened to; in divan poetry this is called teşbih-i tafdîl, a simile that shows the thing compared as superior to that to which it is compared. Here the poet goes one step further and rejects the simile itself: the beloved's radiance is not likened to the moon, nor her cheek to the rose and wine; it is said that they do not have it at all.

In the first couplet the moon and the sun, the wine and the rose, set up the field of comparison as two separate pairs. The word "mihr", meaning sun, also recalls the poet's pen name; the pen name is, in addition, named openly in the last couplet. The second couplet works a well-known conceit (mazmun) of divan poetry. Treasures are hidden in ruined places and a snake guards them; the beloved's face is the treasure of beauty, and her twofold-bent tress is the snake guarding this treasure. According to the poet, this tress's guardianship is found neither in a real snake nor in a dragon. Aktaş notes that the compound "genc-i ḥüsn" (treasure of beauty) is rare in classical poetry, yet occurs both in these anthology ghazals and in Mihrî's divan; the compound does indeed appear in the divan's fourth kaside (qasida).

The third couplet is built on scent. The musk pod (nâfe), taken from the navel of the musk deer, and the censer in which amber is burnt are two known sources of fragrance in divan poetry. Calling the beloved's forelock "ṭarrâr" (pickpocket, trickster) hints that the hair steals the lover's heart. In the fourth couplet the Tuba tree, the cypress and the juniper are named for the tall stature; between "cûy" (stream) and the cypress there is a congruence of images (tenasüp), based on the idea of the cypress that grows by the water. In the fifth couplet the lip is likened to a cup, and the pleasure taken from it to the delight of wine; the wine goblet and the bowl of sugar come together in the same line.

The sixth couplet imagines the beloved's eye as a warrior. Sword, axe, spear and dagger are listed; the congruence among them shows the eye's bloodshed to be greater than that of all weapons. In the closing couplet (makta) the gaze turns back to the lover. Mihrî counts the burning in her heart as fiercer than that of the burning candle and the live coal, the two fixed examples of love's pain in divan poetry. Thus the ghazal applies, in its last couplet, the pattern with which it described the beloved's uniqueness in the first six to the uniqueness of the lover's suffering. As Aktaş points out, these anthology ghazals contain no religious or mystical element; this ghazal too is, from beginning to end, a poem of worldly love between beloved and lover.

Bibliography

Online sources