Just a place to jot down my musings.

Monday, February 15, 2010

The meter(s) of the rubā`ī

Working through the super-long, complex names of the Persian meters (بحور) that make up the patterns of the rubā`ī (رباعی) has inspired me to try to take a crack at figuring out what the different adjectives modifying the general pattern can mean. (Yes, I'm sure this information can be easily obtained somewhere, but this is so much more fun! Besides, I have actual work to do right now which I'm assiduously avoiding.)

Looking at Prof. Frances Pritchett's handbook of Urdu prosody, it is clear that the basic structure of the meter of the رباعی is fairly simple.
— — [—] — {— —} — — [—] —
Here:
a) — represents a long metric unit;
b) [—] represents either — (long) or x x (two short units); and
c) {— —} represents one of three combinations: — —, — x x, or x — x.

But essentially, the meter of the quatrain is always constrained to precisely 20 morae (assuming that — corresponds to two morae and x to one).

Now under the traditional Perso-Arabic prosodic system (فنِّ عروض), each variant is named differently, according to the particular manner in which it is broken down. The general pattern is considered to be a variant of hazaj muthamman sālim (هزج مثمّن سالم), which has the form
x — — — / x — — — / x — — — / x — — —

The رباعی meters all thus have to have four different feet, and so my guess is that each variant will thus have up to four adjectives stacked up after it, one for each foot that is transformed from the hazaj sālim x — — — pattern. (This guess accords with the list of twelve named رباعی meters in Prof. Pritchett's handbook.)

What about those cases when there are fewer than four adjectives? It makes sense to suppose that an unmodified foot would have to follow the hazaj sālim x — — — pattern. Unless our basic رباعی pattern forces us to choose something different, of course. [Notice my assumption here: the رباعی's metric pattern is independent of the description using the particular terminology of Perso-Arabic عروض.]

With these preliminary ideas in mind, let's scan through (no pun intended) the list of named رباعی meters in Prof. Pritchett's handbook and see what we find.

1) Right away, there are two, and only two, patterns for the first foot, namely — — x and — — —. It is fairly obvious that these two patterns are named akhrab (اخرب) and akhram (اخرم), respectively.

2) It is also clear that there are two, and only patterns for the last foot, namely x — and simply —. We can again be fairly confident that these patterns are, respectively, majbūb (مجبوب) and abtar (ابتر). Meters #8 and #10 should be proof enough.

Knowing just these four feet is enough to reveal some of the implications of the constraints imposed on us by the underlying رباعی pattern:
a) any foot that follows — — x (اخرب) has to begin with x —
b) any foot succeeding — — — (اخرم) has to begin with a —
c) any foot preceding — (ابتر) has to end in —
d) any foot preceding x — (مجبوب) has to end in — x
And sure enough, every single meter listed here obeys these constraints.

3) Looking at meter #2, we have three adjectives describing three variants of the hazaj sālim foot, two of which have already been identified earlier. Thus, by elimination, x — — x must be makfūf (مکفوف). This is verified by meter #1.

4) By a similar process of elimination with meter #3, we find that x — x — must be maqbūz (مقبوض). This is verified by meter #4.

And furthermore, the رباعی pattern tells us that
a) مقبوض can apply only to the second foot of the رباعی pattern;
b) مقبوض has to be preceded by a foot ending in x, which in the case of the first foot has to be اخرب — — x;
b) مقبوض has to be succeeded by a foot beginning x —.

5) The only remaining adjective is ashtar (اشتر), which must apply to the only remaining pattern, — x —.

Furthermore,
a) اشتر can apply only to the second foot of the رباعی pattern;
b) اشتر has to be preceded by a foot ending in —, which in the case of the first foot has to be اخرم — — —;
b) اشتر has to be succeeded by a foot beginning x.

We are done. We have named all the variants of the hazaj sālim foot that can appear in the رباعی meter. (Which we could also have done by looking up any half-good manual on عروض, but we will let that pass.) For the sake of easy reference, here they all are, sorted from x to —.

A) x — : مجبوب
B) x — x — : مقبوض
C) x — — x : مکفوف
D) x — — — : سالم
E) — : ابتر
F) — x — : اشتر
G) — — x : اخرب
H) — — — : اخرم

One last variant of the hazaj sālim foot, which does not crop up in the رباعی but which appears very frequently elsewhere, is
I) x — — : mahzūf, محذوف

We are now in a position to generate a meter from its name! Take هزج مثمن اخرب مکفوف ابتر for instance. Its first foot clearly has to be — — x and its last, —. The only options for the second and third feet are either مکفوف x — — x or سالم x — — —, because if they were anything else they would have been named. Clearly one of them has to be مکفوف because the رباعی pattern prevents there being two successive سالم x — — — feet. But the third cannot be مکفوف because the fourth foot ابتر needs to be preceded by a foot ending in — if the رباعی pattern is to hold. Thus the third foot has to be سالم and hence the second foot has to be مکفوف, which fits perfectly in that location. And so we have
— — x / x — — x / x — — — / —
which matches the handbook!

One final test. One of the most awesome meters in Persian poetry is the one in which Nezāmī wrote Laylī-o Majnūn: هزج مسدّس اخرب مقبوض محذوف . What does that come to? Well, for starters, مسدس means only three feet per hemistich, unlike the رباعی; and since we have three adjectives, we're set. In sequence, we get
— — x / x — x — / x — —,
which corresponds perfectly with the scansion of the first line:

شرط است که وقت برگریزان / خونابه شود زبرگریزان

Wondrous, indeed, is the world of prosody!

1 comment:

  1. Dear Gokul,

    I stumbled across your blog and enjoyed it.
    I have a peculiar obsession, you see I am trying to force - some how - a translation of the Persian and Urdu 'arud into English accentual syllabic meter.

    It is making my head ache, for one English word order affects meaning greatly to my choice of diction is affected, I can make some substitutions of iambs, of amphibrachs, for example I can aproximate the Hazaj meter with trochees, iambs, and an amphibrach, but not according to the true classical rules of Arud.

    Yet I feel somehow there must be a possibility. Arud comes from Arabic and the Arabic meters come from a language family completely dissimilar from Persian, Turki, and Urdu - and yet poets in these languages were able to create a prosody that worked beautifully using the 'arud system.

    I feel English pales in expressiveness and meaning before these other languages, and yet I feel deep inside of me that it may be possible to arrive at, to some small degree, some measure of the beauty of the arud meters in English. Possibly with certain substitutions of feet.

    What drives me? An urge to try to write authentic ruba'i and ghazals in my native English tongue. If these beautiful forms could be written in Persian Turkish Urdu and Arabic (and even Hebrew in the middle ages) all quite dissimilar languages, surely I can make an authentic attempt in English.

    I respect the knowledge of prosody you display here, and since I know so little in such matters I had hoped that there may be some light you could share.

    ReplyDelete

Why pearls, and why strung at random?

In his translation of the famous "Turk of Shirazghazal of Hafez into florid English, Sir William Jones, the philologist and Sanskrit scholar and polyglot extraordinaire, transformed the following couplet:

غزل گفتی و در سفتی بیا و خوش بخوان حافظ

که بر نظم تو افشاند فلک عقد ثریا را


into:

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung.

The "translation" is terribly inaccurate, but worse, the phrase is a gross misrepresentation of the highly structured organization of Persian poetry. Regardless, I picked it as the name of my blog for a number of reasons: 
1) I don't expect the ordering of my posts to follow any rhyme or reason
2) Since "at random strung" is a rather meaningless phrase, I decided to go with the longer but more pompous "pearls at random strung". I rest assured that my readers are unlikely to deduce from this an effort on my part to arrogate some of Hafez's peerless brilliance!

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Cambridge, Massachusetts, United States
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
—W.H. Davies, “Leisure”