Original Ottoman Turkish Text

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

Gözyaşı bilsem ne yüzden mevc urur deryâ gibi
Kim görinür anda encüm lü’lü’-i lâlâ gibi
Zerreveş çerh ile şevk ursam beni tañ eylemeñ
Sevdügüm bir dânedür mihr-i cihân-ârâ gibi
Nâfiz olsa kişver-i dillerde hükmüñ vechi var
Nâme-i hüsne çekilmişdür kaşuñ tugrâ gibi
Tîrveş ‘ışkuñ hevâsında sebükbâr olmadum
Râstî gam kaddümi ham itmeyince yâ gibi
Atlas-ı zer-befte virmem ki gil-i dîvâruñı
Ki gil olmaz çün şerefde atlas u dîbâ gibi
Cins-i hüsne nakd-i cân ile harîdâr ol ki hîç
Çıkmadı dehrüñ metâ‘ı sûret-i dünyâ gibi
Hâl-i ruhsâruñ gamından bir karâra sînede
Dâglar yakdı Refîkî lâle-i hamrâ gibi

In English

1. Would I knew why my tears surge like the sea, in which the stars appear like shining pearls.

2. Do not wonder at me if I whirl with longing along with the sky like a mote; the one I love is unique (one of a kind) like the world-adorning sun.

3. It is fitting that your command should run in the land of hearts; your brow has been drawn like a tughra at the head of the decree of beauty.

4. I did not grow light like an arrow in the air of your love until grief, truly, had bent my stature like a bow.

5. I would not give the clay of your wall for gold-woven satin; for in honour satin and brocade cannot equal clay.

6. Be a buyer of the goods of beauty with the coin of your soul; no merchandise of the world ever turned out like this image of the world (the couplet is obscure).

7. From grief for the mole on your cheek, Refîkî has burned lasting brands in his breast, like the red tulip.

Literary and Historical Commentary

The Tughra of the Brow

The third couplet seems written through the eyes of a chancery scribe. The tughra drawn at the head of the sultan’s decree is the sign of the document’s validity; a decree without a tughra carries no authority. Refîkî likens the beloved’s brow to a tughra drawn at the head of the “nâme-i hüsn”, the decree of beauty: the arched line of the brow recalls the curves of the tughra, and so the beloved’s command is “nâfiz”, in force, in the land of hearts. That a poet who spent most of his life as a chancery scribe under Selim I and Süleyman should choose this image looks like his profession showing through his poetry; but the poem itself does not say so.

In the other couplets the redif “gibi” (like) strings together a series of comparisons. In the opening couplet tears surge like the sea, and the stars reflected in them turn to pearls; Köksal’s edition keeps the hamza marks in the word “lü’lü’” (pearl) in this couplet. In the fourth couplet the swiftness of the arrow depends on the bending of the bow: once the lover’s stature has been bent like a bow by grief, he has grown light as an arrow in the air of love; the word “râstî” evokes, with its senses of “truly” and “straight”, the straightness of the arrow as well. In couplet five the clay of the beloved’s wall is worth more than gold-woven satin. The latter half of the sixth couplet is obscure, and the translation only proposes a reading. In the closing couplet, where the pen name falls, the tulip, with the black mark at its centre, is likened to a brand burned into the breast.

Safî’s Model

Nazmî lists the ghazal as an answer to Safî’s ghazal opening “Bitmedi bir verd-i ahmer ol ruh-ı zîbâ gibi / İrmedi bir serv-i ra‘nâ ol kad-i bâlâ gibi”. The model says that no rose or cypress like the beloved’s cheek and stature has grown; Refîkî fills the redif “gibi” with a series of images that put comparison itself in the foreground. The ghazal is not part of Pervâne Bey’s compilation.

Bibliography

Online sources