Original Ottoman Turkish Text

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

Nâleme sabr itmeyüp sögseñ degül cânâ garîb
Çün olur nâz-ı güle bâ‘is niyâz-ı ‘andelîb
Bu ne hikmetdür ki yâruñ göñli sevdâsı ile
Dûş-ı zâhidde ridâ ‘uşşâk boynında salîb
Ey göñül rûz-ı ezel vuslat nasîb-i ‘ayn olup
Saña kısmet fürkat-i yâr olmış ise yâ nasîb
Cüft-i za‘f ol ‘îd-ı vuslatdan ba‘îd olmagla tek
Ol hilâl-ebrûya olmasun rakîb ey dil-garîb
Ey Refîki‿olmaz garîb itse diyârın kişi terk
‘Âşık olan düşse yârından cüdâ olur garîb

In English

1. Beloved, it is no wonder if, unable to bear my wailing, you curse me; for what gives rise to the rose’s coyness is the nightingale’s pleading.

2. What mystery is this, that through love for the beloved there is a mantle on the ascetic’s shoulder and a cross on the lovers’ necks?

3. O heart, if on the day of pre-eternity union fell to the eye as its share, while separation from the beloved fell to you, so be it, such is fate.

4. Be paired with frailty by staying far from the feast of union, only let no rival stand by that crescent-browed one, O stranger heart.

5. Refîkî, a man does not become a stranger by leaving his land; the lover becomes a stranger when he falls apart from his beloved.

Literary and Historical Commentary

A Definition of Exile

The whole weight of the ghazal rests on a definition given in its last couplet: a man does not become a stranger by leaving his land; the stranger is the lover who has fallen apart from his beloved. When one remembers that the preceding Ghazal 6 opens “Ben vatandan ayru dil senden cüdâ”, it is plain that the two poems answer each other. In one, separation from home and separation from the beloved are set side by side; in the other they are weighed, and separation from the beloved proves the heavier. The word “garîb”, the last link of the “-îb” rhyme, is used twice in the fifth couplet to drive this verdict home.

The other four couplets come at the same strangeness from different sides. The nightingale’s pleading, says the first couplet, gives birth to the rose’s coyness; so the lover’s wailing provokes the beloved’s cursing, which is no injustice but the known order between rose and nightingale. The second couplet draws a sharp contrast between religious garb and love: a mantle (“ridâ”) on the ascetic’s shoulder, a cross (“salîb”) on the lover’s neck. The cross is the sign of stepping outside the measure of the law on the path of love, of consenting to be thought an unbeliever; the same word also evokes crucifixion. Feast (“‘îd”) and crescent come together in the fourth couplet, since the feast begins when the crescent is sighted. The wasting lover’s body also resembles a crescent; the poet accepts the likeness, so long as no rival stands beside the crescent-browed one.

A Second Nazire on the Same Model

In the Mecma‘u’n-Nezâ’ir it comes under the heading “Velehû” (also by him), immediately after Refîkî’s first ghazal on Ulvî’s model. It is not unusual in the nazire anthologies for a poet to write two nazires to one model; Nazmî always gives such second poems under this heading. The ghazal does not appear in the Pervâne copy.

Bibliography

Online sources