The Rumi and Hafez. Though many such translations are interesting and enjoyable to read, it is not possible for them to retain much of the complex ghazal structure itself. This is because the ghazal’s native languages are extremely rich in rhyme and polysemy, which are heavily relied upon when writing them, while English offers relatively few rhyming options and only a handful of polysemous words and phonemes. Translations to English must be adapted to English grammar and syntax, which necessarily forces the loss of not only most—if not all—of the original ghazal’s structure, but its polysemy as well. What we see in the English translations is almost always just one from a series of several possible translations.
It is relatively recently that poets have taken on writing original ghazals in English. Because of the scarcity of rhyme and polysemy in English, poets often adapt the form to their personal interpretations and preferences. Many such adaptations are so extreme that it is often not easy to recognize them as ghazals at all.
It was only after consulting a number of sources that I began to see what the English ghazal would look like. And I could see that they would be difficult to write. In fact, very few true to form English ghazals have even been written, which is understandable given the restrictive nature of the form.
There seem to be ten solid points that can be used to define the ghazal as an English art form:
The ghazal is comprised of couplets called sher. Supposedly, each couplet should stand alone as a complete poem, the idea being to make the ghazal like a pearl necklace. The necklace (ghazal) as a whole is striking, but each pearl (couplet/sher) may stand alone in its own beauty and completion of expression. So, by some interpretations, the ghazal is not a poem in itself, but a collection of poems in the form of sher.
Poets tend to interpret this idea in very personal ways. However, to provide a sensible context, it is safe to say that however a couplet reads, it should probably end in a definitive fashion, as if a concluding period could occur at the close of the second line. It is the established understanding that there should be a discontinuity of focus and/or topic between the sher, but I have learned from scholars native to Arabic and Farsi that this is a misunderstanding of English poets and readers. The couplets can have great continuity, as demonstrated in my ghazal “Acorn“, or they can have extreme discontinuity, as demonstrated in my ghazal “Transfigurations“. This is really up to the poet and her present mood.
While the first and second lines of each couplet together often complete a thought, they are themselves each thoughts with some degree of independence. Hence a natural, brief pause should occur at the end of the first line in completion of the first half of the thought.
In Arabic, Farsi, or Hindi this is probably very easy. But I would imagine that this breather could occur somewhere near the end of the first line or the beginning of the second in order to grant more freedom when writing ghazals in English.
There are between 5 and 15 couplets. This is not an exact number, but perhaps the usual number, or maybe simply more of a guideline. I have heard that in Arabic there are ghazals that go on for several dozen lines.
The second line of every couplet closes with a refrain, called radif. “Refrain” is really just the closest English equivalent to radif, as the meanings are different. But, for the purpose of this article, adapt your use of “refrain” to meaning radif, those words or phonemes that are the same at the end of every couplet.
In the opening couplet, both the first and second lines close with the refrain.
The refrain is a word or brief phrase. When a phrase is used, it contains no more than three words. This also is not writ in stone. I understand that historically some poets have used fairly long refrains, which probably look quite natural in one of the ghazal’s native languages. But in English, no more than three words is probably a solid guideline to prevent an extreme overabundance of repetition of content.
A mono-rhyme, or qaafiyaa, is used throughout the couplets. This rhyme terminates at the syllable before each refrain. So, the rhyme is used twice in the first couplet and once on the second line of every couplet ensuing. If there are 15 couplets, the mono-rhyme is used 16 times. This can get interesting.
Similar to what we encountered above between “refrain” and radif, “rhyme” and qaafiyaa do not mean exactly the same thing. It would seem that qaafiyaa indicates a very specific type of rhyme–one that occurs between sher and just preceding radif. But, again, “rhyme” is the closest word available in English to this concept. So, for the purpose of this article, expand your understanding of “rhyme” to include this particular species designated by qaafiyaa.
Because of the general unavailability of rhyming words in English relative to the native languages of the ghazal, it should be considered acceptable to deviate from exact rhyme to the use of other types of parallelisms, both phonetic and semantic. For instance, in my ghazal “stardrift” I use disyllabic consonance instead of rhyme, and in my ghazal “moods” I use an associative parallelism where each word is hyponymous with the color brown. Such variation allows for a great deal more freedom within the form than does rhyme alone.
Except for the fact that each couplet uses a refrain, there is no end rhyme. However, end rhyme may be introduced as a compliment to the form. If end rhyme is used in any manner, it is used in conjunction with the mono-rhyme, not in place of it.
Each line throughout the poem uses the same meter.
Here it is worth noting that traditional ghazals use one of 19 specific meters. But, so far, I have not figured out a way to make an English ghazal adhere to any of them. I believe the variation of English accents makes this more or less impossible, so it seems my only choice for now are the metric structures found in English prosody. It is very important to poets of the languages native to the ghazal that the lines be completely isometric. For some reason, however, isometry in English poetry is now widely frowned upon. And it is difficult to accomplish in any case without bringing a robotic feel to the lines. But, when isometry is successfully employed in such a way that the words read and are spoken in a very natural way, this can bring a vibrancy to the ghazal form that is otherwise just not possible.
The poet uses his or her penname in the final couplet. This reference can be made on the first or second line. This is sometimes called the “signature couplet”. Traditional poets writing ghazals have often used this as a means of opening a sort of dialogue with themselves.
In my ghazals, the penname used is Zahhar. Since June of 2003, however, I no longer use the penname directly, but some reference to one of its meanings.
In reading many loose adaptations of the ghazal, I have found that the only points above used with some consistency are 1, 3 and 8.
Ghazals translated into English seem to also use points 2 and 10. Where translations are concerned, this makes perfect sense because words that rhyme in Eastern languages will not rhyme in English and rarely–if ever–will Eastern phraseologies used with a refrain translate directly into English. The translations themselves are not “ghazals,” but they certainly are “ghazal translations.”
