Translation by GlobaLit postdoc Kristof D’hulster
Ḥasan al-Alqadārī (1834-1910) was a scholar, poet, and historian who was born in southern Daghestan, not far from Azerbaijan. Although his native language was Lezgi, he composed many works in Arabic, Persian, and Turkic.
A scribe holding his pen, on Paris, BnF, Arabe 2583, f. 18v.
His Āsār-i Daǧıstān is an innovative and genre-bending chronicle of Daghestani history and was first published in St. Petersburg, 1312/1894–95. The poem that initially concluded the work (pp. 251–252) is translated here by GlobalLit postdoc Kristof D’hulster, and appears in abbreviated form in “The Antiquarian Imagination in Multilingual Daghestan,” by GlobalLit PI Rebecca Ruth Gould, forthcoming in the next issue Alif: Journal of Comparative Poetics (41).
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- On the left: Ḥasan al-Alqadārī
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- The work’s title page
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- The issue of Alif in which Gould’s article “The Antiquarian Imagination in Multilingual Daghestan” appears.In possession of the author.
Presented below is the poem in Azeri Arabic script, followed by an annotated transcription and translation by Kristof D’hulster
The Poem as It Appears in the First Edition:
First half of the translated poem as it appears in the first edition. In possession of the author.
The Poem in Transcription:
Li’l-ḥaḳīri’l-muḥarrir:
Ḳalemim [1] durdı bu mersāda, dėdi, “Ḳalbım olup pür-ḫūn,
Gerek ėmdi bu deryādan olam bir cānibe bīrūn.”
Dėdim, “Ey ḫāme-i ǧavvāṣ-i Bahr-i Esved ve Aḥmer,
Dayanma, olmasun taǧviyeṭ [2] senden çevher [3]-i meknūn.”
Dėdi, “Bahr [4]-i Ḫazar dur bu, tā pulmaz [5] bunda hīç cevher,
Velī mevcūd olur bunda faḳaṭ aʿrāż -i gūna-gūn.”
Dėdim, “Lā bās, aʿrāżı yıǧışdır bir biri üstine,
Ki onlardan ėdek [6] ibkār fikre zīver-i mevzūn.”
Dėdi, “Aʿrāżdan tertīb-i zīver ʿayn-i müşkildir,
Ki cevhersiz ʿarażlar ḳāʾim olmaz, yazdı Aflāṭūn.”
Dėdim, ‘“Ey ser-nigūn ḫāme, mini sen ser-nigūn ėtdiŋ,
Ne çāre, saʿyımız ẓāyiʿ olur bu bārada eknūn.”
Dėdi, “Allāh kerīmdir, istiʿānet eyleseŋ şāyed
Tapar aʿrāżıŋa cevherleri eşḫāṣ-i rebbīyūn.”
Dėdim, “Güftār-i rebbbiyūnī ḳoy ėmdi, ki yoḳ ḥālā
Cihānda ol laḳab şāyestesi meşhūr-i marżīyūn.”
Dėdi, “Vardır cihānda bir cevre [7]-i aḫyār ahl-i llāh,
Olur himmetler ile ǧālibā ḫandān çoḳ maḥzūn.”
Dėdim, “Handan olar ile mulāḳāt eyleyüm ėmdi,
Ėlim çatmaz bu yolda maṣrafa yoḳ māye-i maḫzūn.”
Dėdi, “Men eylerim taḥrīr-i bir taḥrīr davrana [8],
Ėder aʿrāżıŋı ḥaḳḳā cevāhirler ile maḳrūn.”
Dėdim, “Pes hīle olsa ol ḫuṣūṣda eyle bir tedbīr,
Ki ḫāṭır-cemʿ olaḳ, bu güft-ü-gūda olmayaḳ maǧbūn.”
Dėdi, “El-ḥamdu li’llāhi, olmışım nāʾil-i rāḥat.’
Dėdim, ‘Elbette, men senden bu bābda olmışım efzūn.”
Dėdi, “Bu istirāḥet vaḳtını żabṭ ėt,’ dėdim, ‘Māhı
Muḥarrremdir, ėder sālın ‘Uşaǧ’ hem żabṭ, ey memnūn.”
The Poem in Translation:
Of the wretched author:
My pen moored in the harbour, saying “My heart is filled with blood,
Now I must get out of this sea!”
I said, “O reed pen that dives into the Black Sea and into the Red,
Don’t stay (there), lest the hidden gem [9] remains concealed from you!”
It said, “This is the Caspian Sea, there is no gem to be found here,
All that one finds here are various affections [10].”
I said, “So what?! Then pile up the affections, one on top of another,
Let us make from them a thought (like a) well-proportioned ornament!”
It said, “To make an ornament out of affections is a difficult thing,
As Plato has written, affections without essence do not last.”
I said, “O inverted reed, you’re depressing me.
What to do?! Now, at present our effort is in vain.” [11]
It said, “God is noble, ask for His aid, perhaps
The pious ones will admire your affections as gems.” [12]
I said, “You stop talking about the pious ones, for at present
In the world, there is are nobody left who is generally acknowledged as being worthy of that title!”
It said, “(You’re wrong, as) there is in the world a circle of good men, people of God,
Apparently laughing in the face of their cares, (yet, in reality) most grieved.”
I said, “Then let me meet with them, wherever from,
On this impassable road where is no wealth stored away to be spent.”
It said, “I’ll write a statement to time [13],
(Asking it) to truly bring your affections and the gems into conjunction [14].”
I said, “If there is a way to make this work, then you do what it takes!
Let us keep our head together and not be deceived by this chatter!”
It said, “Praise be to God, I have found rest [15].”
It said, “Surely, I have found peace even more than you!”
It said, ‘Take down in writing the moment when we found this rest!” I said,
“The month is Muharram, and what records the year is the word uşaǧ [16] , O pleased one!’”
Notes
[1] <FLM>? The translation into Russian suggests emending this as ḳalemim, “my pen”.
[2] Litt. “leading astray”. Given the Russian trsl., probably to be emended as taǧşiyet, “covering up” > “concealing”.
[3] Sic, for cevher.
[4] Sic, for baḥr.
[5] Sic for bulmaz.
[6] One of the few explicitly Azeri features in this poem. Others include olam and handan.
[7] Sic, for çevre, “circle”.
[8] Gerund of davran-, “to stir oneself” (> I’ll get myself to…). Alternatively, read deverāna, the dative of deverān ,as the indirect object In terms of prosody, deverāna seems more likely…
[9] I.e., “the absolute truth”.
[10] Aʿrāż or ʿarażlar, “illnesses, events, accidents, accidentals, bodies, faculties, properties, endowments, accidental qualities of affections of any kind, …” In the Russian trsl. “material pleasure.”[11] In the Russian trsl., there is a change of subject to the pen already in the second hem. of this verse. The Turkic original text, however, doesn’t require this change of subject at this point.
[11] In the Russian trsl., there is a change of subject to the pen already in the second hemistich. The original text, however, does not warrant this change of subject already here.
[12] I.e., “recognize your affections as true gems”. An alternative translation, more in line with the Russian trsl., but syntactically perhaps less likely: “will find the gems in your affections.’
[13] Or , when reading davrana instead of deverāna: “I will get myself to writing a statement”.
[14] When two planets are close to one another, they are said to be maḳrūn or “conjoined”. Working together, as it were, they either strengthen or weaken each other’s influence.
[15] Since now the author will no longer want the pen to return to the sea in search for gems.
[16] Uşag, litt. “child”, functions as a chronogram. The year it renders alpha-numerically is 1308/1890–91.
