Original Ottoman Turkish Text

Metre: Fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilâtün fâ‘ilün (remel)

Çerh urur dâyim felek mihrüñle ey meh-rû senüñ
Yakasın çâk itdi subhuñ gayret-i pîrâhenüñ
Bu letâfetde beşer görmiş degül hûr u melek
Beñzer olmışdur sirişti rûh ile cânânenüñ
Gonçeveş çâk olsa cîb-i câme-i ‘ömrüm n’ola
Görmeyem tek gayrılar destinde ey gül dâmenüñ
Eyle ey çeşmüm ruhı şevkiyle rengîn eşküñi
Lâle vü gülden pür olsun dir iseñ pîrâhenüñ
Cehd it kim çerhi döne döne pâ-mâl idesin
Er geçersin ey Refîkî‿altında kalma bir zenüñ

In English

1. O moon-faced one, the heavens whirl for ever (as in a dance) with love of you; jealousy of your shirt has torn the collar of the dawn.

2. Neither houri nor angel has seen a human being of such grace; the beloved’s nature seems to have been kneaded with spirit.

3. What if the collar of the garment of my life is torn like a bud; only, O rose, let me not see your skirt in others’ hands.

4. O my eye, if you want your shirt to be full of tulips and roses, colour your tears with longing for his cheek.

5. Strive to trample the wheel (the heavens, and also the woman’s spinning wheel) underfoot, turning and turning; Refîkî, you pass for a man, do not stay beneath a woman.

Literary and Historical Commentary

The Wheel and the Woman

What gives most to think about in the ghazal is the word “çerh” in the last couplet, where the poet addresses himself. It stands both for the heavens, the turning sky, and for the spinning wheel on which thread is spun; the spinning wheel was once associated with women’s work. The poet addresses himself: strive to trample this wheel underfoot, turning and turning; you pass for a man, do not stay beneath a woman. Likening the world or the heavens to an old woman is common in Ottoman poetry; Refîkî combines this likeness with the word for the spinning wheel and so calls being defeated by the heavens “staying beneath a woman”. The phrase “döne döne” (turning and turning) recalls both the turning of the wheel and the dervish’s whirling; in the opening couplet the heavens’ “çerh urması”, their spinning with love of the beloved, describes the same motion.

The other couplets gather around articles of clothing. The torn collar of the morning is the light that opens in the sky at dawn; Refîkî ties this tear to jealousy of the beloved’s shirt. In the third couplet life is a garment, and the tearing of its collar like a bud is of no account, so long as the beloved’s skirt is not seen in another’s hand. The tears of the fourth couplet are dyed with blood by longing for the cheek and turn the shirt into a cloth patterned with tulips and roses. The second couplet describes the beloved’s making: he seems to have been kneaded not with clay but with spirit.

Nizâmî’s Model

In Nazmî’s compilation the model for this poem is Nizâmî’s ghazal beginning with the couplet “Tutdı mülk-i Hoten etrâfını berg-i semenüñ / Kuşadı sünbül-i ter dâyiresin yâsemenüñ”. The rhyme and redif (“-enüñ”) are taken from the model, but the musk land of Khotan and the jasmine garden of the model give way to a world of shirts, collars and spinning wheels. The poem survives only in Nazmî’s Mecma‘.

Bibliography

Online sources