Original Ottoman Turkish Text

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

Bir şāha ḳul oldum ki temāşāya ḳomazlar
Kılmaġa naẓar ol ruḫ-ı zībāya ḳomazlar
Zülf-i siyehi perde-i Beytü’l-Ḥarem iken
Yüz sürmege ol zülf-i semen-sāya ḳomazlar
Cānum leb-i la‘linden ider ġamzeleri dūr
Miskīn megesi ḳonmaġa ḥelvāya ḳomazlar
Şevḳ ile eger aġzuma biñ kez gele cānum
İrişmege ol la‘l-i güher-zāya ḳomazlar
Cām-ı lebinüñ cür‘asıdur būse-i cān-baḫş
Bir cür‘ayı da ‘āşıḳ-ı şeydāya ḳomazlar
‘Āşıḳ dem-i vaṣlına ḳaçan yol bula anuñ
Şeh bezmine dervīş-i fürū-māye ḳomazlar
Ca‘fer boyuñı ḥalḳa daḫi eylese devrān
Yüz sürmege dergāh-ı mu‘allāya ḳomazlar

In English

1. I have become the servant of a king whom they will not let me gaze at; they will not let me look at that lovely face.

2. Though his black tresses are the veil of the Kaaba, they will not let me rub my face on those jasmine-scented tresses.

3. His glances keep my soul far from his ruby lips; they will not let the poor fly settle on the halva.

4. Even if my soul comes to my mouth a thousand times with longing, they will not let it reach those pearl-bearing ruby lips.

5. The life-giving kiss is a sip from the cup of his lips; they will not leave even one sip for the frenzied lover.

6. When will the lover find his way to the moment of union with him? They do not let a penniless dervish into the king's gathering.

7. Ca'fer, even if fortune bends your stature into a ring, they will not let you rub your face on that lofty court.

Literary and Historical Commentary

Those Who Wait at the Door

Someone keeps barring the lover's way, but the ghazal never says who: the refrain is "ḳomazlar", "they will not let". Who it is that will not let is left uncertain: doorkeepers, rivals, the beloved's glances, perhaps time itself. This uncertainty gives the ghazal the air of a palace. At the start the beloved is a king and the lover has become his servant, yet he is not allowed to see his master's face. In the last the same palace order is completed: though Ca'fer is bent double by fortune, he is not allowed to rub his face on the lofty court. The sixth couplet turns the refusal to admit a penniless dervish to the king's gathering into the reason why the lover cannot find his way to union. The rhyme gathers in "-āya": temāşāya, zībāya, semen-sāya, ḥelvāya, güher-zāya, şeydāya, fürū-māye and mu‘allāya.

The third couplet is taken from an everyday scene. A fly that wants to settle on the halva is chased off; the lover's soul, too, is a poor fly wanting to come near the beloved's sweet lips, and the glances keep it away. The fourth couplet also takes the idiom "the soul comes to the mouth", that is, to reach the brink of death, in its literal sense: the soul comes to the mouth a thousand times, yet still cannot reach the beloved's mouth, his ruby lips.

The Right to a Sip

The conceit of the fifth couplet rests on the two senses of the verb "ḳomaḳ". The verb means both "to allow" and "to leave something behind". At gatherings the last sip left at the bottom of the cup (cür‘a) was poured on the ground or left for those who remained; the lover complains that not even this sip from the cup of the beloved's lips, that is, a single kiss, is left for him. In the second couplet, too, the sacred and love meet in one image: the beloved's black tresses are the black veil of the Kaaba, and rubbing one's face on them is an act of worship, like the pilgrims rubbing their faces on the veil.

In the metre line of the edition the second foot is printed "Mefā‘īü"; the correct form "mefā‘īlü" is given here. The Paris copy departs markedly from the text: according to Erünsal's thesis it reads "Cām-ı" (the cup of) for "Cānum" (my soul) in the third couplet and gives a different line in the sixth, "‘Āşıḳ ḥarem-i vaṣlına yol bula mı anuñ"; the same copy writes "yerine" for "bezmine". Nazmî found no room for it in his anthology.

Bibliography

Online sources