Original Ottoman Turkish Text

Metre: mef‘ūlü mefā‘īlü mefā‘īlü fe‘ūlün

Gösterdi seḥer yili diyü mu‘ciz-i ‘Īsā
Mūsā gibi ‘arż itdi şükūfe yed-i beyżā
‘Ayş ü ṭarab u ẕevḳa ṣalā diyü çaġırur
Serv üzre sürūr ile çıḳup murġ-ı ḫoş-āvā
Eyyām-ı ṣabūḥ irdi dem-i devr-i şebāna
Demdür ki müdām içile bes cām-ı muṣaffā
Beñzer ki çemen şāhına bezm āleti iltür
Bunca ḳadeḥi k’almış ele nergis-i şehlā
Gül ġoncasınuñ şevḳına gül-şende dem-ā-dem
La‘līn ḳadeḥ ile mey içer lāle-i ḥamrā
Mest oldı ṣurāḥīyile içer diyü sūsen
Ṭurmışdur ider ehl-i çemen anı temāşā
Her berg ü gül ü lāle ki gül-şende görürem
Ṣunmış ṣanuram cām-ı mey ü ṣāġar-ı ṣahbā
Her şāḫ-ı gülüñ cünbişi bād-ı seḥer ile
Mest oldı ṣalınur ṣanasın bir ḳad-i bālā
Sulṭān-ı çemen ṣoḥbet-i ‘ām itmek içündür
Ṣaḥn-ı çemen içre ḳurılan ḫayme-i ūlā
Mest-i mey-i ‘ışḳ olduġıçün murġ-ı ḫoş-elḥān
Āvāz ile gül-şen yöresin ṭutdı telālā
Her ġonca k’ider çāk-i girībān ṣanasın kim
Yırtar yaḳasın mest oluban ‘āşıḳ-ı şeydā
Yüzümde gül-i meydür açılan diyü ġālib
Başını benefşe utanup ṣalmış aşaġa
Gül-şende ḳurup bādiyeler lāle-i nu‘mān
Nergisler ile ṭolular içer gibi gūyā
Dil cür‘a-i meydür dökülen didügi şeb-nem
Şimdi bu hevāyile olur lūlū-yı lālā
Bezm-i çemene şöyle ki ṣaçıldı şükūfe
Ṣan kim yire döküldi ḳamu ḫurde-i mīnā
Mektūb aluban ḳanına gül bülbül-i mestüñ
Bād-ı seḥere urdurur altun ile imżā
Eyyām-ı bahār ile bugün bād-ı seḥer-ḫīz
‘Ayş u ṭarab esbābını hep ḳıldı müheyyā
Sāḳī mey-i gül-fāmı getür devr-i gül irdi
Olmaz gibi şimden girü ṣūfīle müdārā
Şol bāde-i ṣāfī kim anuñ ḳaṭrelerinden
Āyīne-i ṣāf-ı dil olur şöyle muṣaffā
Şol mey kim anuñ cür‘ası luṭfından irişse
Fī’l-ḥāl ḳılur mürde-i ṣad-sāleyi iḥyā
Şol bāde-i gül-reng ki her bir ḳadeḥinden
İrer bu dil-i ḫasteye biñ dürlü müdāvā
Şol la‘l-i revān-baḫş ki yāḳūt-ı revāndur
Her bir demine reşk iledür nuṭḳ-ı Mesīḥā
Şol rāḥ k’odur ehl-i dilüñ rāḥat-ı rūḥı
Bir ḳaṭresin İskender ü Cem görmedi aṣlā
Ben devr-i gül ü gerdiş-i mül fikrin iderken
Gördüm dil oḳur sīnede bir maṭl‘a-ı ġarrā
Yaşlu gözümüñ nūrı durur şol ruḫ-ı zībā
Ser-māyesidür ‘ömrümüñ ol zülf-i semen-sā
Göñlüm baña ‘arż itdügi la‘lüñi budur kim
İñende içilmez yaluñuz bāde-i ḥamrā
Gözümle göñül kim viriş ü alış iderler
Gūyā ki ṣalar birbirine mevc iki deryā
Mey-gūn lebin öpüp beni aġlatdıġuñ içün
Demdür ki içem ḳanuñı ey sāġar-ı ṣahbā
Şāyed ki ḫayālüñi getürem ele diyü
Ḫalvet çeker ey dost göñül sīnede tenhā
Çoḳdan ḳapuñuñ sāyilidür eşk-i yetīmüm
Üftāde nedür ḥāl ü demüñ dimedüñ aṣlā
Ẕevḳ-ı lebüñi ṣoñradan añsa ne ‘aceb dil
Āḫirde gerekdür bilür anı n’ola ḥelvā
Bed şekline kişi nicesi baḳa raḳībüñ
Gerçi ki gerek düşmen ile daḫı müdārā
Añduḳça bugün vaṣlını ferdā didügi yār
Bilür ki beni irteye irgürmez o ferdā
La‘l-i lebüñe borcı var ey dost meger kim
Her laḥẓa ḳılur ġamzelerüñ anı taḳāżā
Göstermedügi yüzüñi ẓāhir yine eşküm
Ṭāli‘ baña yār olup irem vaṣluña farżā
Na‘l-i süm-i esb-i şehe mi sürdi yüzin kim
Bu vech ile ki oldı göñül ol yine āsmā
Sulṭān-ı cihān ḥażret-i ḫān Aḥmed-i muḥtār
Her kişiye ḫāk-i deridür maḳṣad-ı aḳṣā
Ol şeh kim odur fażl ü kemālāt ile meşhūr
Luṭf u kerem ü baḫşiş ü ḥilm ile muḥallā
Fermānına rām oldı anuñ gerdiş-i gerdūn
Eyyām ider ise n’ola her ḥükmini icrā
Ey şāh-ı dü kevn ü şeh-i iḳlīm-i ma‘ānī
Ser-ḫayl-i selāṭīn ü şehenşāh-ı ṣaf-ārā
Gün gibi ḳılıcuñ ḳılur āfāḳı münevver
Māh-ı ‘alemüñ ‘ālem içind’olalı peydā
Bilmez ‘alemüñ menziletin çün ki Züḥal bes
Virildi ṣanur kendüye bir manṣıb-ı a‘lā
Bezmüñ hevesi birle düzer çengini dāyim
Raḳḳāṣ-ı felek kim adıdur Zühre-i zehrā
Māh-ı nev idüp na‘l-i semendüñi nümūne
Levḥ-i felege her dem ider naḳşını inşā
‘Ömrini tamām itmek içün ḫaṣm u ‘adūñuñ
Sulṭān-ı felek günde çeker tīġ-i mücellā
Tevḳī‘-i hümāyūnuñ eger girse eline
Noḳṣāndan emīn olayidi māh-ı mu‘allā
Mecmū‘ı du‘ā ḳılmaġ içün devletüñe hep
Cem‘ olsa felekde n’ola bir yire S̱üreyyā
Geldükçe alur bād-ı ṣabā reh-güẕerüñden
Nūr-ı baṣar idinmek içün ḥūrī-i ḥūrā
Pür luṭf-ı ‘amīmüñle cihān mülki ser-ā-ser
Āvāze-i ‘adlüñle ṭolu ‘ālem-i bālā
Tīġuñla kemendüñüñ işi gerçi girāndur
Çeksün ya daḫı neye yarar gerden-i a‘dā
İnkār idemez devlet ü iḳbālüñi münkir
Māh-ı ‘alemüñ göstereliden yed-i beyżā
Telḫ olmaz idi ṭa‘m bu vech ile ser-ā-ser
Çāk olmasa feyżüñle eger zehre-i deryā
Dergāh-ı mu‘allāña yetişen kişi lā-büd
Dir gördügi gibi ki tebārek ve te‘ālā
Cibrīl işigüñ ḳoyuban ḳanda gideydi
Her kişiye ḫoş gelmese bir yüzde temāşā
‘Ālemde hemīn düşmenüñüñ gerçi adı var
Anuñ da murādı işi sī-murġ ile ‘anḳā
Fetḥ āyeti bes tīġuñ içün indi kim oldı
Miftāḥı yedi iḳlīmüñ ey ḥażret-i ‘ulyā
Cem kim dinilür ḳapuña bir ḫādim-i kemter
Rüstem k’añılur sen şehe bir çāker-i ednā
Yüz dergehüñe dutmasa düşmen ne ‘aceb kim
Yañulduġıçün secde-gehin oldı ya tersā
Götürse n’ola ḥācet elin yine Münīrī
Medhüñde bilür kend’özinüñ ‘aczini şāhā
Ḳılduḳça şimāl ile ṣabā gül-şene seyrān
Olduḳça bahār ile cihān şekl-i mücellā
Gül-zārını ‘ömrüñüñ idüp tāze vü ser-sebz
Ter ṭutsun anuñ güllerini Bārī Te‘ālā

In English

1. Because the dawn breeze has shown the miracle of Jesus, the blossom too, like Moses, has displayed the white hand. (The allusion is to Jesus raising the dead with his breath and to Moses' hand that shone white when he drew it from his bosom, the "yed-i beyzā"; the dawn breeze brings the earth back to life, and the white blossoms are like Moses' shining hand.)

2. The sweet-voiced bird climbs joyfully onto the cypress and calls out "salâ" to pleasure, mirth and delight. (A salâ is a call summoning a gathering; the bird on top of the cypress is likened to a muezzin calling from a minaret.)

3. The days of the morning draught have reached the hour of the night gathering; now is the time to drink wine without pause from a clear cup. ("Ṣabūḥ" is wine drunk in the morning. "Müdām" means both "without pause" and "wine".)

4. The languid-eyed narcissus seems to be carrying the instruments of the feast to the king of the meadow, for so many cups are left in its hands. (The cup-shaped centre of the narcissus is likened to a goblet.)

5. In the rose garden the red tulip, longing for the rosebud, drinks wine moment after moment from a ruby cup.

6. The lily has grown drunk because, it is said, it drinks straight from the flask; the people of the meadow stand watching it.

7. Every leaf, rose and tulip I see in the rose garden I take to be offering a cup of wine and a goblet of red wine.

8. Seeing every rose branch sway in the dawn breeze, you would think it a tall beauty swaying in drunkenness.

9. The lofty tent pitched in the courtyard of the meadow is for the sultan of the meadow to hold a gathering open to all.

10. Because the sweet-singing bird is drunk with the wine of love, it has filled the surroundings of the rose garden with its voice, with "telālā" melodies. (Ersoy leaves the word "telālā" as a kind of melody in a Persian ghazal of the divan; its meaning is not certain.)

11. Every bud that tears open its collar is like a frenzied lover who, drunk, rips his collar. (The splitting of the opening bud is likened to the lover who tears his collar out of love.)

12. The violet, most likely saying "what blooms on my face is the rose of wine", has hung its head down in shame. ("Ġālib" here means "most likely". The face of one who drinks wine reddens; the violet bows its head as if ashamed of this flush, and the drooping neck of the violet is a frequent theme in divan poetry.)

13. The anemone (lāle-i nu‘mān) has set out wine bowls in the rose garden and seems to be drinking brimming cups with the narcissi.

14. The heart says that the dewdrop is spilled dregs of wine; now, with this air, it becomes a shining pearl. ("Hevā" means both "air" and "desire".)

15. Blossoms have been strewn over the meadow's feast in such a way that you would think all the splinters of glass had been spilled on the ground. ("Mīnā" in the dictionary sense is glass, crystal and a wine flask.)

16. The rose takes out a warrant for the blood of the drunken nightingale and has the dawn breeze seal it with gold. (The yellow pollen at the rose's centre is likened to a golden seal; the nightingale's death is the rose's doing.)

17. Today the breeze that rises at dawn, together with the days of spring, has made ready all the means of pleasure and mirth.

18. Cupbearer, bring the rose-coloured wine, the season of the rose has come; from now on it seems impossible to humour the Sufi.

19. That clear wine from whose drops the clear mirror of the heart becomes so pure.

20. That wine whose dregs, should they reach someone by its grace, at once bring a hundred-year-old corpse back to life.

21. That rose-coloured wine from every cup of which a thousand kinds of cure reach this sick heart.

22. That life-giving ruby which is a flowing ruby; the speech of the Messiah envies its every draught. ("Yāḳūt-ı revān", flowing ruby, is wine. "Dem" means both breath and draught; there is an allusion to Jesus raising the dead with his breath.)

23. That wine (rāḥ) which is the ease (rāḥat) of the spirit for the people of the heart; neither Alexander nor Jamshid ever saw a single drop of it. ("Rāḥ" is wine and "rāḥat" is ease; the two words play on each other.)

24. While I was thinking of the rose season and the circling of the cup, I saw the heart reciting a brilliant matla‘ in my breast. (A matla‘ is the opening couplet of a ghazal; here the poet announces that he will set a ghazal inside the kaside.)

25. That lovely cheek is the light of my tearful eye; that jasmine-scented lock is the capital of my life.

26. The reason my heart reminds me of your ruby lip is this: red wine is not drunk alone like that, for nothing. (The word "iñende" occurs in other couplets of the divan with a sense like "like that, for nothing"; the meaning has been drawn from the context. The lip is thought of as the morsel that goes with the wine.)

27. As my eye and my heart trade with each other, it is as if two seas were sending waves to one another.

28. O goblet of wine, since you made me weep by kissing that wine-coloured lip, now is the time for me to drink your blood. (The blood of the goblet is the wine in it.)

29. O friend, hoping that it may perhaps catch your image, the heart withdraws into seclusion, alone within the breast.

30. My orphan tear has long been a beggar at your door; you never once asked how the fallen one fares. ("Eşk-i yetīm" is an orphan tear; since "dürr-i yetīm" means a single, peerless pearl, the tear is also thought of as one pearl.)

31. No wonder if the heart recalls the taste of your lip afterwards; it surely knows that sweets are needed at the end. (The image rests on eating a sweet at the end of a meal.)

32. How can anyone look at the ugly face of your rival? Though, to be sure, one must humour even an enemy.

33. Whenever the beloved who says "tomorrow" speaks of union today, she knows that this tomorrow will not let me live to the next morning. (The lover will die before that tomorrow comes.)

34. O friend, the heart must owe a debt to your ruby lip, for your glances demand it every moment. (The line does not say plainly who the debtor is; it can be understood as the heart.)

35. My tear once more reveals the face you do not show; suppose fortune befriends me and I attain union with you. (The couplet is not entirely clear; the second line can be read as a wish or a supposition.)

36. Did the heart rub its face on the horseshoe of the king's steed, that in this way it has once again risen as high as the sky? (This is the girizgâh couplet; "āsmā" seems to mean "high as the sky" here.)

37. The sultan of the world, His Majesty Khan Ahmed the Chosen, the dust of whose door is for everyone the farthest goal. ("Muhtar" means chosen.)

38. That king who is famed for virtue and accomplishments, adorned with grace, generosity, bounty and gentleness.

39. The turning of the heavens has bowed to his command; is it any wonder if the days carry out his every decree?

40. O king of the two worlds and sovereign of the realm of meanings, chief of sultans and emperor who arrays the ranks.

41. Ever since the moon of your banner appeared in the world, your sword has lit the horizons like the sun. (The crescent at the top of the banner is likened to the moon.)

42. Because Saturn does not know the rank of your banner, it imagines it has been given a lofty post. (Saturn was counted the highest planet in the old order of the heavens; the sultan's banner is higher still.)

43. The dancer of the sky, the star called bright Venus, keeps tuning her harp out of longing for your feast. (Venus is known in divan poetry as the musician of the sky.)

44. Taking the shoe of your steed as its model, the new moon draws its picture on the tablet of the sky at every moment. (The crescent is likened to a horseshoe.)

45. To end the lives of your foe and enemy, the sultan of the sky, the sun, draws a polished sword every day.

46. If your imperial signature came into its hands, the exalted moon would be safe from waning. ("Tevḳī‘" is the sultan's signature and tughra; the shrinking of the moon is called "noksan", deficiency.)

47. Is it any wonder if the Pleiades gather in one place in the sky to pray for your state? (The Pleiades are a cluster of stars set close together.)

48. Every time the east breeze comes it takes dust from your path for the houri to use as kohl for her eyes.

49. Through your boundless grace the realm of the world is full from end to end; the higher world is full of the fame of your justice.

50. The work of your sword and lasso is heavy, to be sure; but let the necks of the enemies bear it, for what else are they good for?

51. Ever since the moon of your banner showed the white hand of Moses, the denier cannot deny your fortune and prosperity. (The allusion to the "yed-i beyzā" of the first couplet is repeated here for the shining crescent of the banner.)

52. The taste of the sea would not be so bitter throughout, had the gall of the sea not burst because of your bounty. ("Zehre" in the dictionary sense is the gall bladder; the saltiness and bitterness of the sea are attributed to its gall bursting out of envy of the sultan's generosity.)

53. Whoever reaches your exalted court is bound to say, as he sees it, "tebārek ve te‘ālā". ("Blessed and exalted", a phrase of praise said of God.)

54. If gazing at a single face did not please everyone, where would Gabriel go, leaving your threshold? (The couplet is not entirely clear; "bir yüzde" can be understood both as "in a single face" and as "in one direction".)

55. Your enemy has a name in the world, to be sure; but his wish, too, is like that of the Simurgh and the Anka. (The Simurgh and the Anka are legendary birds that have a name but are never seen; the enemy's existence, too, is a mere name.)

56. The verse of victory was sent down for your sword, so that it became the key of the seven climes, O exalted majesty. (There is an allusion to the Sura of Victory; "miftāḥ", key, is linked to "fetḥ" in its sense of "opening".)

57. Jamshid, as he is called, is a lowly servant at your door; Rustam, as he is named, is the meanest slave of you, the king.

58. No wonder if the enemy does not turn his face to your court; because he went astray, his place of prostration has either turned backwards or become a Christian's. ("Tersā" means Christian and plays on the word "ters", backwards; the couplet can be read in two ways.)

59. Is it any wonder if Münîrî once again raises the hand of need? O king, in praising you he knows his own helplessness.

60. As long as the north wind and the east breeze stroll through the rose garden, as long as the world takes on a gleaming form with spring,

61. May the Creator Most High keep the rose garden of your life fresh and green, and keep its roses moist and blooming.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Structure of the Poem

The poem is a Turkish kaside (qasida) of sixty-one couplets and is numbered Kaside 21 in the edition. The kaside is a long verse form in which every couplet keeps the same rhyme, usually written to praise a ruler. The metre is "mef‘ûlü mefâ‘îlü mefâ‘îlü fe‘ûlün". The kaside has no redif (refrain word); the rhyme rests on the long sound "-ā" ('Īsā, beyżā, ḫoş-āvā, muṣaffā, şehlā, ḥamrā). Ersoy cites this kaside among the examples of rhyme built on the final rhyming letter alone. The kaside is found only in the Vatican manuscript (VT 40b). The heading in the edition, "Fī-bahāriyyāt", means "among the spring poems" or "on spring". The sources give no information on when or on what occasion the kaside was presented.

The sections of the kaside can be clearly seen in the text. Couplets 1-17 are an opening section describing the coming of spring; the name "bahāriyyāt" in the heading comes from this section. In couplets 18-23 the poet addresses the cupbearer and praises wine in couplets that each begin with the word "şol" (that). In couplet 24 he says that, while he was thinking of the rose season and the circling of the cup, he saw the heart reciting a brilliant matla‘ in his breast. This announcement is the passage to the new matla‘ (opening couplet) that begins in couplet 25, and couplets 25-35 address the beloved like a ghazal (gazel) set inside the kaside. Couplet 36 is the girizgâh (transition): the heart has risen high because it has rubbed its face on the shoe of the king's horse. The person praised is named in couplet 37: "Sulṭān-ı cihān ḥażret-i ḫān Aḥmed-i muḥtār". Couplets 37-58 are the medhiye (praise section). In couplet 59, with the pen name (mahlas) "Münīrī", the poet speaks of his helplessness in praising; the last two couplets are a prayer built on the pattern "as long as …".

Meaning and Figures of Speech

The opening section sets out spring as a drinking party. Every flower in the garden has a task at the feast: the bird calls the "salâ" from the top of the cypress like a muezzin (2), the narcissus carries cups (4), the tulip drinks from a ruby cup (5), the lily drinks from the flask and grows drunk (6), the anemone sets out the wine bowls (13), the bud becomes a lover tearing his collar for love (11), and the violet bows its head, ashamed of the wine flush on its face (12). In couplet 16 the rose takes out a warrant for the blood of the drunken nightingale and has the dawn breeze seal it with gold; here the garden takes on the language of the judge's court. The first couplet of the kaside opens with an allusion to the breath of Jesus and the white hand of Moses; the same allusion to the "yed-i beyzā" returns in couplet 51, this time for the crescent on Prince Ahmed's banner, and ties the spring section to the praise section.

In the section addressed to the cupbearer, wine is an elixir that raises the dead (20), cures the sick heart (21) and makes even the breath of the Messiah envious (22). There is wordplay in this section too: "rāḥ" (wine) and "rāḥat" (ease) are set side by side (23); "müdām" carries the senses of both "without pause" and "wine" (3), and "dem" both "breath" and "draught" (22). In the ghazal section the trade between the eye and the heart is two seas sending waves to each other (27), and the orphan tear is a beggar waiting at the door (30). Couplet 33 says that the beloved who says "tomorrow" knows that the lover will not live to see that tomorrow; this fine irony, taken from everyday speech, is a good example of Münîrî's couplets that stay close to plain language.

In the praise section the heavenly bodies enter Prince Ahmed's service. Saturn thinks itself high because it does not know the rank of his banner (42), Venus tunes her harp for his feast (43), the new moon takes the shoe of his horse as its model (44), the sun draws a sword against his enemies every day (45), and the Pleiades gather together to pray for his state (47). Couplet 52, which attributes the saltiness of the sea to its gall bursting out of envy of the prince's generosity, and couplet 55, which likens the enemy to the Simurgh and the Anka that have a name but no existence, are examples of hüsn-i talil, the figure that gives a poetic cause in place of the real one. Couplet 56 alludes to the Sura of Victory and makes the sword the "key" of the seven climes; the sense of "opening" in the word "fetih" (conquest) creates a congruence of images (tenasüp) with the key.

Historical Context

According to Ersoy this kaside is a nazire (response poem) to Ahmed Paşa. Ersoy says that the influence of Ahmed Paşa stands out in Münîrî's Turkish kasides, and counts this kaside, in this metre and with the rhyme "-ā", among the nazires written to Ahmed Paşa; he notes that Ahmed Paşa's poem, like Münîrî's, bears the heading "Bahāriyyāt". The heading in the edition does not name the person praised, but the name "Aḥmed-i muḥtār" appears in couplet 37; this name points to Prince Ahmed. In the count given in Ersoy's introduction the kasides written for Prince Ahmed number seven; since, according to the headings in the edition, K 22-28 were written for Ahmed, the number rises to eight when this kaside is counted too. According to Hüseyin Hüsameddin, Münîrî was Prince Ahmed's nişancı (chancery secretary) between 910 and 915 (1504-1510); it is not known, however, whether this kaside was written in those years.

Bibliography

Online sources