Original Ottoman Turkish Text

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

Şāhid-i gül burḳa‘ın çün kim götürdi ṣubḥ-dem
Bülbül-i gūyāy ṭutsa ṭañ mıdur her ṣubḥ dem
Virür emvāt-ı nebāta yine biñ dürlü ḥayāt
Her dem enfās-ı Mesīḥā birle bād-ı ṣubḥ-dem
Ḫār elinden lāle-veş ġonca ciger-ḫūn olmaġın
Yaş yirine bülbül-i gūyā döker her ṣubḥ dem
Her seḥer vaḳtinde bülbül yanup olmasun mı kül
Ṣanki her gül āteş-i sūzān olupdur ṣubḥ-dem
Būstān-ı ‘ālem oldı ravża-i ḫuld-i berīn
Gül-şen-i nīlūferīden nice urur ṣubḥ dem
Āteş-i Vādī-i Eymenden yaḳupdur gül çerāġ
Bülbül-i gūyā Kelīmullāh gibidür lā-cerem
Şem‘-i lāle her gice ḳalsa ṣabāḥa ṭañ mıdur
Nergis-i şehlā elinden gitmez aṣlā cām-ı Cem
Mehd-i şāḫ üzre ımızġansun diyü eṭfāl-i gül
Arḳun arḳun bād-ı ṣubḥ ögrer ki vire neşv ü nem
Ṣanki ṭūṭī-beççedür burnın çıḳarmış beyżadan
Her çemen kim yiñile bitmişdür ey dil bīş ü kem
Çıḳmadan gehvāreden ‘Īsā gibi sūsen henūz
Söze dil uzatdı her güftārdan urmaġa dem
Ṣanki ḳudsīler feleklerde göñül tesbīḥ oḳur
Her ser-i serv üzre ḳumrılar kim eylerler naġam
Ḫırḳa-i sālūs ile mey nūş ider diyü müdām
Lāle ṣaḥrāya sürüldi olduġıçün müttehem
Bülbül-i şeydāya her gül olalı nār-ı Ḫalīl
İrdi her bir bāġa şöyle ḥürmet-i beytü’l-ḥarem
Mest-i şevḳ olmışdur ider ḳahḳaha kebk-i deri
Pence-i şāhīni añmaz yimez andan hīc ġam
Kesr olup ḳalb-i zemistān kend’özin maḥv eyledi
Gül-sitān-ı ‘āleme fetḥ-i bahār olalı żam
Ṣanki bir maḥbūb-ı bī-hemtādur ey dil nev-bahār
Sünbül aña perçem ü gül ḫad olupdur ġonca fem
Nergis-i zerrīn-külāh oldısa n’ola pīşvā
Kār-dīde pīr olur ser-leşker-i ḫayl ü ḫaşem
Ġoncanuñ ḳatdı feraḥdan ḫandeyile yüregi
Bāde-i gül-gūn içelden za‘ferān ile be-hem
Ḫurrem olsun diyü sulṭān-ı gül ey dil āb-rūd
Gösterür āvāzeler birle sürūd-ı zīr ü bem
Sāḳīyā gül devridür cām-ı muravvaḳ ṣun berü
Çarḫ-ı kec-reftār dönsün niçe dönerse ne ġam
Her nefes bād-ı nesīm āb-ı revān üzre yazar
Ṣad hezārān ṣūret-i Çīn bī-devāt u bī-ḳalem
Ṭaldırur bād-ı ṣabā nīlūferüñ başın ṣuya
Kīse-i gülden zer alduñ diyü olmış müttehem
Şāhid-i gül ḳarşusına bülbül-i gūyā-yı mest
Ṣad hezār oḳur bunuñ gibi ġazeller dem-be-dem
Ey cemāli lāle-zār-ı gül-şen-i bāġ-ı İrem
Leblerüñdür ġonca-i sīr-āb-ı gül-zār-ı ‘adem
Her şükūfe gözin açmışdur deñer biñ cān ile
Sen gül-endāmı temāşā ḳılmaġa ser-tā-ḳadem
Cennetüñ ṣankim zümürrüd ḳaṣrıdur ġılmān ile
Sebze-zār-ı kūşe-i gül-şen senüñle ey ṣanem
Gūyiyā bir kāsedür pür-āb ile nergis ṭolu
‘Abher-i çeşmüñ ḫayāli birle şöyle çeşm-i nem
Ġoncalardur ṣanki gül-şende yetişür ḫārdan
Ḳaṭreler kim ḥāṣıl ider ḳanlu yaşlardan müjem
Gül-şen-i cennetde iki sözde bir ṭāvūs-ı ḳuds
Şeh-per-i ṭūṭī ḫaṭuñ ḥaḳḳına ider hep ḳasem
Sāyesinde ḳaddüñüñ ḫoş geçmegin serv-i sehī
Hergiz uzatmaz ḫazān yili aña dest-i sitem
Lāle gibi baġrumı ḫūn itdüñ ise ġam degül
Ġāyeti ḫūn-ı ciger birle yoluñda cān virem
Çekmeden reyḥān-ı ḫaṭṭ-ı sebzüñüñ bār-ı ġamın
Niçün oldı bilmezem ḳadd-i benefşe müfteḫam
Sen gül-endām ile seyr-i gül-sitān itmiş Münīr
Ben bunuñ şükrini yā Rab nicesi idebilem
Levḥ-i dilde lāle-ruḫlar naḳşı ḫaylī var idi
Münşī-i reyḥān-ı ḫaṭṭuñ çekdi mecmū‘-ı raḳam
Nev-cüvān itdi yine pīr olmış iken ‘ālemi
Sen gül-endām ile devr-i Ḫüsrev-i encüm-ḥaşem
Gül-bün-i gül-zār-ı devlet ḥażret-i Şeh Bāyezīd
Mālik-i mülk-i ‘Arabdur Ḫüsrev-i Türk ü ‘Acem
Mesned-i şer‘-i resūl ol şāh-ı ins ü cān k’odur
Gül gibi vech-i ḥasen birle şeh-i Yūsuf-şiyem
İ‘tidāl-i devr-i ‘adlidür zamānuñ revnaḳı
‘Ālem eyyām-ı bahār ile olur bes muġtenem
Būstān-ı feyżine ḫalḳ-ı cihān yüz ṭutduġı
Hergiz andan kimse lā işitmedi illā ne‘am
Sofra-i cūduñda şāhā fī’l-mes̱el bir kāsedür
Her ne deñlü ṭolsa bāġ-ı ‘ālem envā‘-ı ni‘am
Ṣad hezār olsa şükūfe küllinüñ güldür şehi
Nitekim sen Ḫüsrevisin şehler olmışdur ḫadem
Nefḫa-i bād-ı nesīm-i ‘adl-i rūḥ-efzāñ ile
Oldı ebter defter-i faṣl-ı zemistān-ı ẓalem
Berḳ-ı tīġ-i āb-dāruñdan yanup küfr ü ḍalāl
Ḳalmadı maḥbūblardur var ise adı ṣanem
Dehr elinden sen şeh-i devrāna ḥālin bildirür
Ġonca kān-ı la‘l gibi ‘arż idüp ḫūn-ı şikem
Perçem-i ṭāvūs-ı nīzeñden yetişmegin ṣabā
Oldı ṣaḥrā-yı vücūd-ı düşmenüñde bād-ı sem
Menzil-i evvelde ḫayl-i ḥaşmetüñ ser-leşkeri
Sebze-zār-ı gül-şen-i çarḫ üzre dikmişdür ‘alem
Lāle-veş ḫūn-ı füsürde ṭutdı endāmın tamām
Ḫancer-i ser-tīzüñe ḫod ḳabża olmadı beḳam
Ġarḳ-ı ḫūn olmış yaturken lāle-veş dir düşmenüñ
Āḫir-i kār itmez imiş kişiye aṣṣı nedem
Gördi tīġ-i āb-dāra urduñ el sūsen gibi
Ser-nigūn itdi benefşe gibi a‘dāñı dijem
Dest-i sīm-efşānuña öykünmegin bād-ı ṣabā
Her dem eṭrāf-ı cihān içre nis̱ār ider direm
Devr-i ‘adlüñde ṣadā-yı heybetüñ ḥıfẓ itmegin
Sebze-zār içre yürür gürg ile ṣaḥrāda ġanem
‘Ālemi gül gibi ḫandān itmege her geh gelür
Āsmān-ı luṭfuñ üzre ebr-i nīsān-ı kerem
Dest-i gevher-bāruñuñ vaṣfını idelden ṣabā
Şerm ile cāy-ı ṣadef ‘ālemde oldı ḳa‘r-ı yem
İşidelden būstān-ı devletüñüñ revnaḳın
Bitdi düşmen yüreginde ḫarbüze gibi verem
Ebr-i nīsān mest olup dökdükçe şöyle cür‘alar
Lāle vü nergis ṣabūḥ itdükçe gül-şende be-hem
Ḫūb-rūlar gibi nāza başladuḳça ġoncalar
Ṣad hezār itdükçe bülbüller niyāz ile naġam
Gül-sitān-ı ‘ömrüñi ser-sebz ü sīr-āb eyleyüp
Luṭf-ı Ḥaḳ ḳılsun ziyāde devletüñi dem-be-dem

In English

1. When the beauty that is the rose lifted her veil at dawn, is it any wonder that the eloquent nightingale strikes up its song every morning? (The word that stands twice in the rhyme position is a pun: "ṣubḥ-dem" means the time of dawn, while "dem ṭutmak" in the second line means, in the dictionary sense, to take up a note, to begin a song.)

2. The morning breeze, with the breaths of the Messiah, gives a thousand kinds of life once more, at every moment, to the dead plants. (An allusion to Jesus raising the dead with his breath; the spring wind is imagined as a breath that revives withered plants.)

3. Because the bud, like the tulip, has its heart turned to blood at the hands of the thorn, the eloquent nightingale sheds blood instead of tears every morning. ("Dem" means blood in Arabic; the "ṣubḥ dem" at the end of the line can thus be read both as "the time of dawn" and as "blood".)

4. Should the nightingale not burn to ashes at every daybreak, when at dawn every rose seems to have become a scorching fire? (The Vienna copy has "ölmesün mi kim" in place of "olmasun mı kül": "should the nightingale not burn and die".)

5. The orchard of the world has become the garden of high, eternal paradise; how the morning breathes out from the water-lily-coloured rose garden. ("Dem urmak" means, in the dictionary sense, both "to give breath" and "to speak up, to make a claim". The water-lily-coloured garden seems to stand for the blue of the sky; the couplet describes the breath of morning spreading from the sky as dawn breaks. The Vatican copy has "niçe", "how many", in place of "nice".)

6. The rose has lit its lamp from the fire of the valley of Eymen; the eloquent nightingale, surely, is like Kelîmullah. (An allusion to Moses seeing fire in the valley of Eymen and speaking with God; Kelîmullah, "he who spoke with God", is the epithet of Moses. The red rose is compared to that fire and the singing nightingale to Moses.)

7. Is it any wonder if the candle of the tulip stays burning every night until morning? The cup of Cem never leaves the hand of the languid narcissus. (The tulip is likened to a candle with a red flame and the cup-shaped centre of the narcissus to the cup of Jamshid; both are imagined as part of a drinking party that lasts all night.)

8. So that the children of the rose may doze in the cradle of the branch, the morning wind rocks them back and forth and accustoms them to sleep, to give them freshness and moisture. (The verb "ögrer" means, in the dictionary sense, "accustoms, teaches"; in the context of the cradle the wind appears to be rocking the buds and lulling them to sleep. The reading is not certain.)

9. O heart, every newly sprouted blade of grass is, more or less, like a parrot chick that has poked its beak out of the egg. (The green shoot breaking through the soil is compared to a green parrot chick cracking its shell and showing its head.)

10. The lily, like Jesus, before it has even left the cradle, has stretched out its tongue to speak of every kind of talk. (An allusion to Jesus speaking in the cradle; the long leaves of the lily are likened to tongues.)

11. As the turtle-doves sing their melodies on the top of every cypress, it is as if holy beings were reciting praises from the heart in the heavens. (The angels are meant. The Vienna and Istanbul copies have "iderler" in place of "eylerler".)

12. Because the tulip was accused of drinking wine constantly under a cloak of hypocrisy, it was banished to the open country. (That the tulip grows in the wild is explained as the exile of a hypocritical ascetic; the red flower is likened to a wine cup and its green leaves to a dervish cloak. The Istanbul copy has "ṣaḥrādan" in place of "ṣaḥrāya".)

13. Ever since the rose became the fire of Halil for the love-mad nightingale, the sanctity of the Beytü'l-Haram, the Kaaba, has reached every garden. (Halil is Abraham; the allusion is to the fire into which he was thrown turning into a rose garden. Since Abraham is also the builder of the Kaaba, the gardens are treated as inviolable as the sacred precinct.)

14. The mountain partridge, drunk with longing, bursts into laughter; it does not think of the falcon's claw and does not worry about it at all. ("Kebk-i derī" is, in the dictionary sense, the mountain partridge; its call is likened to laughter.)

15. The heart of winter was broken and it wiped itself out, for the conquest of spring has been added to the rose garden of the world. (The words "kesr" (breaking), "fetḥ" (conquest) and "żam" (addition) are, in the dictionary sense, also the names of the three vowel marks of Arabic script, kesre, fetha and zamme; "ḳalb" means both heart and the centre of an army. Winter is described as an army whose centre has been broken.)

16. O heart, early spring is like a matchless beloved: the hyacinth has become its forelock, the rose its cheek, the bud its mouth.

17. Is it any wonder if the narcissus in its golden cap has become the leader? The seasoned old man becomes the commander of the army and the retinue. (The yellow centre of the narcissus is likened to a golden cap; the second line is built like a proverb.)

18. Ever since it drank rose-coloured wine together with saffron, the heart of the bud has burst with laughing for joy. (The opening of the bud is likened to laughter; its yellow centre is imagined as saffron mixed into the wine.)

19. O heart, so that the sultan rose may be merry, the stream plays with its voices the song of the high and low strings. ("Āb-rūd" is a stream; "rūd" means, in the dictionary sense, both river and a stringed instrument in Persian. "Zīr ü bem" are the high and low strings, the high and low notes.)

20. O cup-bearer, this is the season of the rose; pass the cup of clear wine this way. Let the crooked-going heavens turn however they please, what care we. (The word "devr" is used both for the season and for the round of the cup at a gathering, alongside the turning of the heavens.)

21. With every breath the dawn breeze writes on the running water, without inkwell and without pen, hundreds of thousands of Chinese pictures. (The ripples the wind makes on the surface of the water are likened to Chinese designs, famed for their fine workmanship.)

22. The east wind plunges the water lily's head into the water; the lily stands accused of taking gold from the rose's purse. (The water lily's place in the water is presented as the punishment of a thief who stole gold from the yellow centre of the rose.)

23. Facing the beauty that is the rose, the drunken, eloquent nightingale recites, moment after moment, a hundred thousand ghazals like this one.

24. O you whose beauty is the tulip bed of the rose garden of the gardens of Irem, your lips are the well-watered bud of the rose garden of non-existence. (The beloved's mouth is so small that it is described with the word "non-existence"; the bud too resembles that small, closed mouth.)

25. Every blossom has opened its eyes to gaze at you, rose-bodied one, from head to foot; such a sight would be worth a thousand lives.

26. O beauty, the greenery in the corner of the rose garden is, with you, like the emerald palace of paradise with its youths of paradise. ("Ṣanem" means, in the dictionary sense, an idol; in poetry it stands for the beautiful beloved.)

27. With the image of your narcissus eye, my tearful eye is like a bowl full of water with a narcissus in it. ("‘Abher" is, in the dictionary sense, a flower of the narcissus kind.)

28. The drops that gather on my lashes from my bloody tears are like buds growing from the thorn in the rose garden. (The lashes are likened to thorns and the drops of bloody tears to red buds.)

29. In the rose garden of paradise a holy peacock swears constantly by your down, which resembles a parrot's wing. ("Two words, one of them", one of every two words, means often. "Şeh-per-i ṭūṭī" is the largest wing feather of the parrot; the green down on the cheek is likened to it. The Vatican copy has "eylerler" in place of "ider hep".)

30. Because the straight cypress spends pleasant hours in the shade of your stature, the autumn wind never stretches out the hand of cruelty against it.

31. If you have turned my breast to blood like the tulip, it is no grief; in the end let me give my life on your path with the blood of my heart.

32. Without bearing the burden of grief for the sweet basil of your green down, why has the stature of the violet been exalted? I do not know. (The rhyme word "müfteḫam" is not clear in this form; it has been read here in the dictionary sense of "müfaḫḫam", exalted, honoured. The violet is described as having gained esteem without ever suffering for the beloved's down.)

33. Münîr has toured the rose garden with you, rose-bodied one; O Lord, how can I ever give thanks for this?

34. On the tablet of the heart there were many pictures of tulip-cheeked beauties; the scribe of your down, green as sweet basil, struck through them all. ("Ḫaṭ" means both script and the down on the cheek; the words tablet, picture, scribe and figure form a congruence of images (tenasüp) drawn from writing.)

35. Together with you, rose-bodied one, the reign of the king whose retinue is as numerous as the stars has made the aged world young again. (The Vatican copy has "itmiş" in place of "olmış". This couplet prepares the passage from the beloved to the ruler.)

36. The rose bush of the rose garden of the state is His Majesty Shah Bayezid; he is lord of the realm of the Arabs and king of the Turks and the Persians.

37. That ruler, shah of men and jinn, is the support of the Prophet's law; with his fair face like a rose he is a shah with the nature of Joseph.

38. The splendour of the age comes from the balance of his reign of justice; only so are the days of spring prized as a boon by the world. (The mildness of spring and the moderation of justice are joined in the same word, "i‘tidāl". The Vienna and Istanbul copies have "cihānuñ" in place of "zamānuñ".)

39. Ever since the people of the world turned their faces to the orchard of his bounty, no one has ever heard "no" from him, only "yes". (The Arabic words "lā" (no), "illā" (only, except) and "ne‘am" (yes) are used; the sequence "lā … illā" seems also to recall the Muslim profession of faith.)

40. O shah, however full the garden of the world may be of every kind of blessing, it is but a bowl at the table of your generosity.

41. Though there be a hundred thousand flowers, the king of them all is the rose; just so you are the sovereign, and kings have become your servants.

42. With the breath of the dawn breeze of your life-giving justice, the register of the winter season of oppression has been closed. ("Ebter" means cut short, without issue. The rhyme word "ẓalem" has been read here as oppression; it also calls to mind the darkness of winter.)

43. In the lightning of your tempered sword unbelief and error burned away; if anything is still called an "idol", it is only the beauties. ("Ṣanem" means both idol and beautiful beloved; the couplet is built on these two senses.)

44. The bud, showing the blood in its belly like a mine of rubies, tells you, shah of the age, of what it suffers at the hands of fortune. (The Istanbul copy has "devr" in place of "dehr".)

45. Because the east wind passes through the peacock-feather plume of your lance, it has become a poisonous wind in the desert of your enemy's existence.

46. At the very first stage of the march, the commander of your majestic army has planted the banner on the greenery of the rose garden of the sky.

47. Clotted blood like the tulip covered the enemy's whole body; not even brazilwood served as a hilt for your sharp-pointed dagger. (The line is obscure. The rhyme word "beḳam" has been read in the dictionary sense of brazilwood, the tree that yields a red dye; the meaning may be that the enemy's blood stained the dagger red up to its hilt.)

48. Lying drowned in blood like the tulip, your enemy says: at the end of the matter, regret is of no use to a man. (The second line recalls the saying "late regret is of no avail".)

49. It saw that you laid your hand, like the lily, on the tempered sword; it left your enemies with heads bowed and downcast like the violet. (The subject of the line is not explicit; it seems to be fortune or the age that saw. "Dijem" means, in the dictionary sense, sad or sullen in Persian. The sword-like leaves of the lily and the drooping head of the violet are the basis of the simile.)

50. Because the east wind imitates your silver-scattering hand, it scatters coins at every moment to the four corners of the world. (The white petals the wind scatters are likened to silver coins.)

51. In your reign of justice, because the voice of your awe protects it, the sheep walks with the wolf in the meadow and in the open country.

52. Above the sky of your kindness the April cloud of generosity comes at all times to make the world laugh like the rose.

53. Ever since the east wind described your pearl-raining hand, the oyster in shame has chosen the bottom of the sea as its home in this world. (That the pearl oyster lies at the bottom of the sea is attributed to its shame at being outdone in generosity by the sultan's hand.)

54. Ever since it heard of the splendour of the orchard of your state, a "verem" like a melon has grown in the enemy's heart. ("Verem" means, in the dictionary sense, a swelling or lump in Persian, hence the comparison with a melon; in Turkish the word also means consumption. Orchard and melon also call each other to mind.)

55. As long as the April cloud, drunk, sheds such draughts, as long as tulip and narcissus drink the morning wine together in the rose garden,

56. As long as the buds, like fair-faced beauties, begin their coquetry, as long as the nightingales, pleading, sing a hundred thousand melodies,

57. May God's grace keep the rose garden of your life green and well watered, and increase your fortune moment by moment.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Structure of the Poem

The poem is a Turkish kaside (qasida) of fifty-seven couplets and bears the number Kaside 11 in the edition. The kaside is a long verse form made up of couplets that keep a single rhyme, written for the most part in praise of a ruler or a great man. The metre is the ramal pattern "fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilün". The kaside has no redif (refrain word); the rhyme is the sound "-em" (dem, cerem, Cem, nem, kem, müttehem, ḥarem, ġam, fem, ḳalem, ṣanem, ḳasem). In his introduction Ersoy cites this poem among the kasides whose rhyme rests on the final consonant alone. In the rhyme position of the first five couplets the same word "ṣubḥ-dem / ṣubḥ dem" is repeated, each time with a different sense. The poem is found in the Vatican (VT 20b), Vienna (VY 28b) and Istanbul University (Ü 12b) copies. The heading in the edition, "Der-medḥ-i Sulṭān Bāyezīd Ḫān ḫalledallāhü milkehū", means "In praise of Sultan Bayezid Khan; may God make his rule eternal". The heading in the Vatican copy calls the sultan "sultan of the land and the sea"; some letters of this heading could not be printed in the edition.

The sections of the kaside are clearly marked in the text. Couplets 1-23 describe spring: rose, nightingale, tulip, narcissus, lily, hyacinth, cypress and turtle-dove, the morning wind and the April cloud follow one after another. This nesib (opening section) closes in couplet 23 with the nightingale reciting a hundred thousand ghazals "like this one" before the rose, and from couplet 24 the poet addresses the beloved. This ghazal section, spoken to the beloved, runs to couplet 35; the pen name (mahlas) also appears inside this section, as "Münīr" in couplet 33, and not, as is usual, at the end of the kaside. Couplet 35 makes the passage to the praise by mentioning, beside the beloved, the reign of the "Ḫüsrev-i encüm-ḥaşem", and in couplet 36 the name of the patron comes as "Şeh Bāyezīd". The praise continues to couplet 54; the last three couplets are a prayer built on "as long as" clauses and tied once more to the images of spring. For whom it was written is clear from the heading and from couplet 36; the sources give no information on when it was presented.

Meaning and Figures of Speech

The opening of the kaside is a description of spring of the kind called bahâriyye in Ottoman divan poetry. According to the definition in the TDV İslâm Ansiklopedisi, such a description is not a genre of its own but prepares the ground for the praise of the great man to be lauded in the kaside; spring is described as a season that gives life to the dead like the breath of Jesus. Münîrî's second couplet says this directly: the morning wind gives life to dead plants with the breath of the Messiah. Most of the spring images are tied to the stories of the prophets. The rose is the fire in the valley of Eymen, the nightingale is Moses, Kelîmullah (6); the rose is the fire of Abraham for the nightingale, and so the gardens are as sacred as the Kaaba (13); the lily, like Jesus speaking in the cradle, stretches out its tongue before it is even born (10). Every part of nature is explained by a poetic aetiology (hüsn-i talil): the tulip has been banished to the countryside like a hypocritical ascetic (12), the water lily's head has been plunged into the water because it stole the rose's gold (22), the pearl oyster has withdrawn to the bottom of the sea out of shame before the sultan's generous hand (53).

Münîrî's fondness for the pun (cinas) is visible in this kaside from the first couplet. The word "ṣubḥ-dem" plays in couplet 1 between the time of dawn and "dem tutmak" (to take up a note), in couplet 3 between dawn and the Arabic "dem" (blood); in couplet 5 it is tied to the idiom "dem urmak". In couplet 15 the defeat of winter is told with the words "kesr", "fetḥ" and "żam"; besides their senses of breaking, conquest and addition, these three words are the names of the three vowel marks of Arabic script. In couplet 19 "āb-rūd" (stream), together with "sürūd" (song) and "zīr ü bem" (high and low strings), brings out the sense of "rūd" as a musical instrument in Persian. In couplet 34 the word "ḫaṭ" is used in its senses of script and down on the cheek; the words tablet, picture, scribe and figure form a congruence of images (tenasüp). Couplet 43 in the praise section rests on the word "ṣanem": the sultan's sword has destroyed idolatry, and the only things still called "idol" are the beauties. In couplet 39, where the people hear "ne‘am" (yes) rather than "lā" (no) from the sultan, the sequence "lā … illā" recalls the profession of faith.

The praise section, too, does not leave the images of spring. The sultan is "the rose bush of the rose garden of the state" (36), his justice blows like the dawn breeze and closes the register of the winter of oppression (42), his generosity is the April cloud (52), the splendour of the orchard of his state makes a swelling like a melon grow in the enemy's heart (54). In couplet 38 the moderation of justice and the mild air of spring meet in the same word, "i‘tidāl"; the reign of justice in which the wolf grazes with the sheep (51) is also an old image of praise. In couplet 48 a line that recalls the saying "late regret is of no avail" is put in the mouth of the defeated enemy; the use of proverbs and idioms is among the features Ersoy lists for Münîrî. There are a few passages in the kaside that are hard to interpret: the verb "ögrer" in couplet 8, "müfteḫam" in couplet 32 and the rhyme word "beḳam" in couplet 47 could not be resolved with certainty; in the translation they are marked as readings.

Historical Context

According to the heading in the edition, the kaside was written in praise of Bayezid II; in couplet 36 the sultan is named "Şeh Bāyezīd" and described as "lord of the realm of the Arabs, king of the Turks and the Persians". According to Ersoy's introduction, fourteen of the twenty-nine kasides in the divan are eulogies of Bayezid II. Münîrî had been in Bayezid's company while the latter was sanjak governor in Amasya; the sources, however, give no information on whether this kaside was written in the Amasya years or in the years of the sultanate.

Bibliography

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