Обсуждение:Поэзия

Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān

Поэзия и поэты (2 394 слова) Состав в метрическом и рифмованном языке; и тех, кто сочиняет такие композиции. К тому времени, когда родился Пророк, арабская поэзия уже давно является ключевым культурным регистром языка. Другие литературные формы, в частности ораторские и рассказчивые, имели важные культурные роли, но преобладала поэзия (см. Предрелизийскую арабию и куран, литературные структуры qur'ān, литературу и арабскую литературу). Неясно, когда эта поэзия (shi’r), которая ¶ не имеет функциональных параллелей ни в одном из других семитских языков (см. Рифмованную прозу), сначала возникла, но вполне понятно, что её оригинальные формы, стили рифм, метры и тематические конвенции были в значительной степени зафиксированы в начале пятого века ce (время самых ранних сохранившихся кусков). После этого должны были развиваться, но они построены на уже существующих основаниях. В более поздние времена общие темы считались панегирическими, пасквитами, плач, любовью, описанием, самовосхвалением и афористическими высказываниями; но такие широкие категории не дают представления о подробном тематическом богатстве, которое мы находим в сохранившемся корпусе. Понятно, что большая часть этой поэзии — по существу племенная поэзия; что племена были кочевыми и зависимыми от их верблюдов и, в меньшей степени, от их лошадей, овец и коз (см. верблюд, животная жизнь); что они жили в пустыне, полупустыне и окружающих горах (см. арабы, бедуины, кочевники); что племена часто сражались друг с другом (см. боевые действия, войны, экспедиции и битвы); что жизнь всегда воспринималась как тяжелая и опасная; что внутриплеменные и межплеменные отношения привели к сложному кодексу поведения как для мужчин, так и для женщин (см. сообщество и общество в qur'ān, социальные взаимодействия); что существует этический кодекс, основанный на понятии мурулла (см. этику и qur'ān); но, напротив, за немногими исключениями религиозные идеи были относительно немного развиты (см. религию, южную арабию, религию в пре-исламском), с капризами редко доброжелательного состояния и постоянно присутствующей угрозы смерти и, в частности, безвременная смерть, поглощающая мысли соплеменника (см. судьбу). Был амбивалентный взгляд на поселения (см. Город): они были источником предметов первой необходимости, которые не были найдены в пустыне и импортированных предметов роскоши, таких как вино (q.v .; см. Также интоксиканты); но они считались нездоровыми местами. В самих поселениях были поэты; например, al-Samaw’al b. «Адия в Тайма», Адий б. Зайд в аль-Шире и более старый современник Пророка, Умайя б. Ави-Ṣalt в аль-Шайф. Однако ни один из поэтов поселений не достиг славы и статуса великих бедуинских поэтов. Именно к последнему вернулись правители Лахмидов аль-Шира и их противники Гасанидов южной Сирии, когда им захотелось какого-то панегирического (см. Византийцы, христиане и христианство). К началу седьмого века к.э. их патронаж позволил успешным поэтам, таким как Maymūn b. Кай аль-Аша, чтобы стать странствующими трубадурами. Аль-Аша был не единственным мастером-поэтом, который был бы современником Пророка. Другие были Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā, Labīd b. Рабиа, "Амир б. аль-Фуфаил и Дюрейд b. аль-Симма. Было ещё много не самого высокого ранга. Примерно семьдесят пять лет назад Гибб (арабская литература) кратко подытожил некоторые из основных причин успеха доисламской поэзии: [Но] его привлекательность гораздо больше в том, что, удерживая зеркало до жизни, он представлял изображение, большее, чем жизнь. Страсти, эмоции и изображения были идеализированы по содержанию и выражению — по содержанию, потому что он представлял арабов себе, как они хотели бы быть, неизмеримо смелыми и галантными и откровенными, и в выражении, потому что эти идеальные образы были одеты в богатые, звучный и вызывающий воспоминания язык, и учитывая эмоциональную интенсивность ритмов биения и постоянно повторяющейся рифмы (стр. 25) …. Все это задерживало основную цель поэта, поэтому, чтобы стимулировать творческий отклик его аудитории, поэма становится ¶ диалогом между ними, диалог, в котором аудитория настораживает, чтобы понять намеки и намеки, сжатые в компасе его стих и завершить свой портрет или мысль для себя (стр. 26). Факторы, подобные этим, сыграли важную роль не только в обеспечении успеха поэзии в свое время, но и в обеспечении её привлекательности, которая по-прежнему привлекает арабоязычных слушателей. Ничто из этого, вероятно, не сильно обеспокоило бы Пророка, но было два аспекта поэзии, которые, должно быть, были ему глубоко обеспокоены. Во-первых, это был короткий шаг от пасквиля к непристойности или, что ещё хуже, к проклятию (см. Проклятие). Инвестант поэта был обычным явлением и вызвал много недоброжелательности. Второй аспект более сложный и более серьезный. С самого начала арабы связывали своих поэтов с магией (q.v.) или, по крайней мере, с сверхъестественными, нечеловеческими силами (см. Devil, jinn, insanity). Существует множество свидетельств того, что поэты (а также кахины, предсказатели [qv]) считались сверхъестественной движущей силой, учитывая разные имена: халил (эвфемистический «друг, компаньон», видя друзей и дружбу), джинны и даже шайнан — Греческий даймон. Мы не полагаемся на поздние источники для доказательства этого. Например, Аль-Аша несколько раз ссылается на свое демоническое альтер-эго под именем «misḥal», «красноречивым языком». Именно на этом фоне сверхъестественного и волшебства следует взглянуть на то, что Коран должен сказать о поэзии и поэтах. Ключевыми словами, найденными в тексте, являются ша’ир, «поэт» (q 21: 5, 37:36, 52:30, 69:41), ширр, «поэзия» (стр. 36:69), майнун, "одержимый Джинн "(п. 15: 6, 26:27, 37:36, 44:14, 51:39, 52; 52:29, 54: 9, 68: 2, 51, 81:22), джина, " владение джинн "(q 7: 184, 23:25, 70, 34: 8, 46), а также kāhin, " предсказатель "(q 52:29, 69:42). ¶ Из-за перекрытия (например, 37:36, например, фраза shā'ir majnūn) они включают в себя девятнадцать проходов, которые делятся на два вида: (1) Те, в которых неверующие изображаются как заявляющие, что пророк — поэт, предсказатель или одержимый; и (2) те, в которых существует сильное отрицание таких требований. Большинство проходов находятся в сурах, считающихся ранним или средним Мекканом, хотя есть также три из позднего Мекканского периода (см. Хронологию и qur'ān). Они явно полемичны, хотя удивительное число связано с эсхатологическим материалом (см. Эсхатологию). Нет такого рода Мединановского прохода. Возражения обычно помещаются в устье мекканских противников Мухаммада (см. Противодействие муψаммаду), хотя в случае майнуна два отрывка относятся к фараону (qv) и Моисею (qv), а два к Ною (qv) и его противников. Поэтому общая картина состоит в том, что Мухаммад не одинок, как пророк, столкнувшись с такими возражениями. Однако отрывки, конкретно относящиеся к шаиру (а также кхину), относятся скорее к Мухаммаду, чем к кому-либо ещё. Возражения противников Пророка ярко выражены в q 21: 5: "Нет! Говорят, "Затуманенные кошмары. Нет! Он его изобрел. Нет! Он поэт. Пусть он принесет нам знак, точно так же, как старые посланы со знаками ". Немного раннее q 52: 29-31 является особенно ярким проходом. Во-первых, существует решительное отрицание того, что Муψаммад является либо kāhin, либо majnūn. Это противоречит предложению его анонимных противников о том, что он шайер: "Итак, дайте напоминание (q.v.). По милости вашего господина вы не прорицатель и не обладаете. Или они говорят: «Поэт, для которого мы ждем злодеяний судьбы». Скажите: "Подождите. Я буду одним из тех, кто ждет с тобой ". В дополнение к использованию трех ключевых слов в отрывке ¶ есть рентген аль-манун, " злополучные судьбы ", фраза, которая имеет различные параллели в доисламских поэзия. Вывод из таких отрывков состоит в том, что в Мекке (qv) было много словесного спарринга и полемики с обеих сторон, а противники Пророка, не колеблясь, называли его «поэтом», «прорицателем», один обладал "(и многое другое, что здесь не имеет прямого отношения). Это имеет смысл, если слова используются из-за их уничижительного фона. Альтернативное предположение о том, что оппоненты Мухаммеда не могли отличить поэзию, высказывания кахинов и отрывков из Корана не пристально следят. Коран также дает понять, что поэзия не является подходящим средством передачи Божьего послания Пророком. q 36: 69-70 работает: "Мы не научили его поэзии. Это не подходит для него. Это только напоминание и пояснение, которое ясно, что он может предупредить живущих и что это слово может быть доказано в отношении неверующих ". Короче говоря, не только Пророк не обладал ни поэт, ни что-либо ещё; кроме того, поэзия не была подходящей как реестр откровения (см. откровение и вдохновение, декламацию qur'ān). Таким образом, эти отрывки определяют положение Пророка и откровение в отношении поэзии, но они ничего не говорят о других поэтах. Для этого мы должны обратиться к заключительному разделу q 26 и, в частности, к q 26: 224, который дает суре свое название — «Поэты». Стихи 224-7 обычно считаются Мединаном (тогда как остальные суры считается средним Мекканом), но не существует убедительной причины этого взгляда, кроме последнего стиха. "Должен ли я рассказать вам о тех, на кого сходят сатаны? Они спускаются на каждого грешного лжеца (см. Ложь). Они слушают, но большинство из них — лжецы. И [есть] поэты, те, кто сбиваются с пути (q.v.), следуют за ними. Разве вы не видели, как они блуждают в каждой долине, и как они говорят, что они не делают? Это не относится к тем, кто верит и делает праведные поступки и часто помнит Бога и помогает себе после того, как они были обижены. Те, кто поступают неправильно, наверняка узнают, как они опрокинутся, они будут опрокинуты "(стр. 26: 221-7). Как правило, этот отрывок начинается с q 26: 224, но в силу стихов о шаирах и майнунах, упомянутых выше, представляется вероятным, что ссылка на аль-шай-кин, «сатаны», в стихе 221, является типичным наклонным введением к стих 224. Ясно, что поэтов осуждают, но, поскольку проход является риторическим (см. риторику и qur'ān), сила комментария очень важна для интерпретации. Представление о том, что оно является серьезным, похоже, в определённой степени зависит от взглядов, сформированных на уже обсуждавшихся отрывках. Если, однако, следует понимать, что q 26: 225-6 относятся к поэтам, а не к «тем, кто сбивается с пути», можно разумно предположить, что он освобождает хотя бы некоторых поэтов от стресса. Возможность, предложенная в § 26: 227, что некоторые поэты могут быть или стать праведными, соответствует свидетельствам сиры, биографии Пророка (см. Sīra и qur'ān) и рассказам о самих поэтах, хотя есть много чего не могут быть взяты по номинальной стоимости. Похоже, что хорошо известный, хотя и второстепенный, поэт Ḥassān b. Thābit, племени Мединанов Хазрадж, сочинил поэзию для нового сообщества с 5/627 года (хотя совершенно то, что материал этот ¶ был теперь трудно определить: по консервативной оценке 70 % его Дивана ложно). Также активным от имени мусульман был Буджайр б. Zuhayr b. Ави Сульма, который в конце концов убедил своего брата Ка’ба б. Зухайр отказался от своего противостояния исламу. Затем Ка’б подошел к Пророку, представил и произнес свою хвалебную речь Банат-су’ад, к большому удовольствию Мухаммада. Буджайр, как утверждается, предупредил Ка’ба, что при завоевании Мекки Мухаммад приказал казнить «некоторых из тех, кто сатировал и оскорбил его» (см. Ибн Исхак-Гийом, 597). С другой стороны, Пророк, похоже, не предпринял никаких действий против других враждебных поэтов. Таким образом, "Амир б. аль-Фуфаил, который был непримиримо настроен против ислама, пришел в депутацию из Бануамира, чтобы посетить Пророка в 9/630. Несмотря на то, что, по слухам, он участвовал в заговоре, чтобы убить Мухаммада, ему разрешили покинуть Медину, хотя он умер на пути назад к своему племени, вероятно, из-за болезни, поднятой в Медине. Мы можем также отметить, что несколько позже, когда один из легатов Амира, Арбад б. Qays, был убит молнией, брат-брат Арбада Лабид, очевидно, к тому времени благочестивый мусульманин, не видел ничего плохого в составлении серии плач его. Исходя из этого, простая интерпретация q 26: 224-7, а именно, что она показывает некоторое неодобрение поэтов, хотя с предложением опускания в q 26: 227 представляется наиболее разумной. Это не помешало многим комментаторам в более поздние периоды принимать более тусклый вид. Это неудивительно, так как поэты регулярно попадали в неприятности для грязной сатиры или даже неосторожно оскорбляли тех, кто пребывал в религиозной или временной власти ".

Poetry and Poets (2,394 words) Composition in metrical and rhymed language; and those who compose such compositions. By the time the Prophet was born, Arabic poetry had long been the key cultural register of the language. Other literary forms, particularly oratory and story telling, had important cultural roles but it was poetry that dominated (see pre-islamic arabia and the qurʾān; literary structures of the qurʾān; orality and writing in arabia). It is uncertain when this poetry (shiʿr), which ¶ has no functional parallel in any of the other Semitic languages (see rhymed prose), first came into being, but it is reasonably clear that its original forms, rhyme patterns, meters and thematic conventions were largely fixed by the early part of the fifth century c.e. (the time of the earliest surviving pieces). There were to be developments after that, but they built on the foundations already in place. In later times the overarching themes were thought to be panegyric, lampoon, lament, love, description, self-glorification and aphoristic sayings; but such broad categorizations give little idea of the detailed thematic richness we find in the surviving corpus. It is clear that most of this poetry is essentially tribal poetry; that the tribes were nomadic and dependent on their camels and, to a lesser extent, on their horses, sheep and goats (see camel; animal life); that they lived in the desert and semi-desert and the surrounding mountains (see arabs; bedouin; nomads); that the tribes frequently fought each other (see fighting; war; exped. and battles); that life was at all times perceived as hard and dangerous; that intra-tribal and intertribal relationships had led to a complex code of conduct both for men and for women (see community and society in the qurʾān; social interactions); that there was an ethical code based on the notion of muruwwa (see ethics and the qurʾān); but that, in contrast, with few exceptions, religious ideas were relatively little developed (see religion; south arabia, religion in pre-islamic), with the vagaries of a rarely benevolent fortune and the ever-present menace of death and, particularly, untimely death consuming the tribesman’s thoughts (see fate). There was an ambivalent view of settlements (see city): they were the source of necessities not found in the desert and of imported luxuries ¶ such as wine (q.v.; see also intoxicants); but they were thought to be unhealthy places. There were also poets in the settlements themselves; for example, al-Samawʾal b. ʿĀdiyā at Taymāʾ, ʿ Adiyy b. Zayd at al-Ḥīra, and an older contemporary of the Prophet, Umayya b. Abī l-Ṣalt at al-Ṭāʾif. None of the poets of the settlements, however, achieved the fame and status of the great Bedouin poets. It was to the latter that the Lakhmid rulers of al-Ḥīra and their rivals the Ghassānids of southern Syria turned when they wanted some panegyric (see byzantines; christians and christianity). By the beginning of the seventh century c.e. their patronage enabled successful poets such as Maymūn b. Qays al-Aʿshā to become itinerant troubadours. Al-Aʿshā was not the only master poet to be a contemporary of the Prophet. Others were Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā, Labīd b. Rabīʿa, ʿĀmir b. al-Ṭufayl and Durayd b. al-Ṣimma. There were many more not of the highest rank. Some seventy-five years ago, Gibb (Arabic literature) succinctly summed up some of the key reasons for the success of pre-Islamic poetry: [But] its appeal lies far more in the fact that, in holding the mirror up to life, it presented an image larger than life. The passions and emotions and portrayals were idealized in content and expression — in content because it presented the Arabs to themselves as they would have liked to be, immeasurably bold and gallant and open-handed, and in expression because these ideal images were clothed in rich, sonorous and evocative language, and given emotional intensity by the beating rhythms and ever-recurring rhyme (p. 25)…. All of these subserved [the poet’s] main purpose, so to stimulate the imaginative response of his audience that the poem becomes a ¶ dialogue between them, a dialogue in which the audience are alert to grasp the hints and allusions compressed within the compass of his verse and to complete his portrait or thought for themselves (p. 26). Factors such as these were instrumental not only in ensuring the success of the poetry in its own time but in providing it with an appeal that still grips Arabic-speaking hearers today. None of this is likely to have troubled the Prophet greatly, but there were two aspects of poetry that must have been deeply disturbing to him. The first is that it was a short step from lampoon to obscenity or, much worse, to the uttering of curses (see curse). Poets' invective was common and caused much ill will. The second aspect is more complex and more serious. From the beginning the Arabs had linked their poets with magic (q.v.) or, at least, preternatural, non-human forces (see devil; jinn; insanity). There is ample evidence that poets (and likewise kāhins, soothsayers [q.v.]) were believed to have a preternatural driving force, given various names: khalīl (euphemistic «friend, companion»; see friends and friendship), jinn and even shayṭān — the Greek daimōn. We do not rely on late sources for evidence on this. Al-Aʿshā, for example, several times refers to his demonic alter ego by the pet name misḥal, «the eloquent tongue.» It is against this background of the preternatural and of magic that one should view what the Qurʾān has to say about poetry and the poets. The key words found in the text are shāʿir, «poet» (q 21:5; 37:36; 52:30; 69:41), shiʿr, «poetry» (q 36:69), majnūn, «possessed by a jinn» (q 15:6; 26:27; 37:36; 44:14; 51:39, 52; 52:29; 54:9; 68:2, 51; 81:22), jinna, «possession by a jinn» (q 7:184; 23:25, 70; 34:8, 46) and also kāhin, «soothsayer» (q 52:29; 69:42). ¶ Because of overlapping (q 37:36, for example, has the phrase shāʿir majnūn), they involve nineteen passages, which fall into two kinds: (1) Those in which unbelievers are depicted as declaring that a prophet is a poet, a soothsayer, or possessed; and (2) those in which there is a strong denial of such claims. Most of the passages are found in sūras thought to be early or middle Meccan, though there are also three from the late Meccan period (see chronology and the qurʾān). They are obviously of a polemical kind, though a surprising number are linked to eschatological material (see eschatology). There is no Medinan passage of this kind. The objections are normally put into the mouths of Muḥammad’s Meccan opponents (see opposition to muḥammad), though in the case of majnūn, two of the passages refer to Pharaoh (q.v.) and Moses (q.v.), and two to Noah (q.v.) and his opponents. The general picture is therefore that Muḥammad is not alone as a prophet in facing such objections. The passages specifically referring to shāʿir (and also kāhin), however, relate to Muḥammad rather than anyone else. The objections of the Prophet’s opponents are vividly summed up in q 21:5: «No! They say, ‘Tangled nightmares. No! He has invented it. No! He is a poet. Let him bring us a sign, just as the ones of old were sent with signs’.» The slightly earlier q 52:29-31 is a particularly striking passage. First, there is a firm denial that Muḥammad is either a kāhin or majnūn. This is then countered by a suggestion by his anonymous opponents that he is a shāʿir: «So give the reminder (q.v.). By the grace of your lord you are neither a soothsayer nor one possessed. Or they say, ‘A poet for whom we await the ill-doings of fate.’ Say, ‘Wait. I shall be one of those waiting with you’.» In addition to using three of the key words, the passage ¶ has rayb al-manūn, "the ill-doings of fate, " a phrase that has various parallels in pre-Islamic poetry. The conclusion to be drawn from such passages is that there was a great deal of verbal sparring and polemic on both sides in Mecca (q.v.) and that the Prophet’s opponents did not hesitate to call him "a poet, " a "soothsayer, " «one possessed» (and much else that is of no direct concern here). This makes good sense if the words are being used because of their pejorative background. The alternative suggestion that Muḥammad’s opponents could not differentiate between poetry, the utterances of kāhins and passages from the Qurʾān does not bear close scrutiny. The Qurʾān also makes it clear that poetry is not an appropriate vehicle for the transmission of God’s message by the Prophet. q 36:69-70 runs: «We have not taught him poetry. That is not proper for him. This is only a reminder and a recitation that is clear, that he might warn those who are alive and that the word may be proved true against the unbelievers.» In short, not only was the Prophet not possessed, either as a poet or anything else; in addition, poetry was not suitable as the register of the revelation (see revelation and inspiration; recitation of the qurʾān). These passages thus determine the position of the Prophet and the revelation vis-à-vis poetry but they say nothing about other poets. For that we must turn to the final section of q 26 and in particular to q 26:224, which gives the sūra its name — «The Poets.» Verses 224-7 are usually thought to be Medinan (whereas the rest of the sūra is considered to be middle Meccan) but there is no cogent reason for this view, apart from the final verse. ¶ «Shall I tell you of those on whom the satans descend? They descend on every sinful liar (see lie). They listen, but most of them are liars. And [there are] the poets, those who go astray (q.v.) follow them. Have you not seen how they wander in every valley, and how they say what they do not do? That is not the case with those who believe and do righteous deeds and remember God often and help themselves after they have been wronged. Those who do wrong will surely know by what overturning they will be overturned» (q 26:221-7). The passage is usually thought of as beginning at q 26:224 but in view of the verses on shāʿir and majnūn mentioned above, it seems likely that the reference to al- shayāṭīn, "satans, " in verse 221 is a typically oblique introduction to verse 224. Clearly poets are denounced but, as the passage is rhetorical (see rhetoric and the qurʾān), the strength of the comment is very much a matter of interpretation. The view that it is a severe one seems to rely to some extent on views formed on the passages already discussed. If, however, one takes the view that q 26:225-6 refer to the poets rather than to "those who go astray, " one may reasonably take the view that it exempts at least some poets from stricture. The possibility offered by q 26:227 that some poets might be or become righteous fits in with the evidence of the sīra, the biography of the Prophet (see sīra and the qurʾān), and stories about the poets themselves, though there is much that cannot be taken at face value. It would appear that the well established, though minor, poet Ḥassān b. Thābit, of the Medinan tribe of Khazraj, composed poetry for the new community from the year 5/627 onwards (though quite what material this ¶ was is now difficult to determine: at a conservative estimate 70 % of his Dīwān is spurious). Also active on behalf of the Muslims was Bujayr b. Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā, who eventually persuaded his brother Kaʿb b. Zuhayr to drop his opposition to Islam. Kaʿb then came to the Prophet, submitted and recited his eulogy Bānat suʿād, much to the delight of Muḥammad. Bujayr is alleged to have warned Kaʿb that at the conquest of Mecca Muḥammad had ordered the execution of «some of those who had satirized and insulted him» (cf. Ibn Isḥāq-Guillaume, 597). On the other hand, the Prophet appears to have taken no action against other hostile poets. Thus ʿĀmir b. al-Ṭufayl, who was implacably opposed to Islam, came on a deputation from the Banū ʿĀmir to visit the Prophet in 9/630. Despite being rumored to be involved in a plot to kill Muḥammad, he was allowed to leave Medina, though he died on the way back to his tribe, probably through an illness picked up in Medina. We may also note that somewhat later, when ʿĀmir’s fellow legate, Arbad b. Qays, was killed by lightning, Arbad’s half-brother Labīd, apparently by then a devout Muslim, saw nothing wrong in composing a series of laments for him. On this basis the simple interpretation of q 26:224-7, to wit that it shows some disapproval of poets, though with a let-out clause in q 26:227, seems the most reasonable. That did not stop many commentators in later periods from taking a much dimmer view. This is not surprising as poets regularly got themselves into trouble for foul-mouthed satire or even inadvertently offending those in temporal or religious authority.¶

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Bibliography

(in addition to the ei 2 articles on the poets named in the article):

• R. Blachère, La poésie dans la conscience de la première génération musulmane, in ai 4 (1963), 93-103
• Cl. Gilliot, Poète ou prophète? Les traditions concernant la poésie et les poètes attribuées au prophète de l’islam et aux premières générations musulmanes, in F. Sanagustin (ed.), Paroles, signes, mythes. Mélanges offerts à Jamal Eddine Bencheikh, Damascus 2001, 331-96
• H.A.R. Gibb, Arabic literature, Oxford 19632, chaps. 2 and 3
• A. Jones, Early Arabic poetry, Reading 1992-6, introduction
• I. Shahid, A contribution to koranic exegesis, in G. Makdisi (ed.) Arabic and Islamic studies in honor of Hamilton A.R. Gibb, Cambridge, MA 1965, 563-80
• id., Another contribution to koranic exegesis.
• The sura of the Poets (XXVI), in jal 14 (1983), 1-21
• M. Zwettler, A Mantic manifesto.
• The sūra of «The Poets» and the qurʾānic authority, in J.L. Kugel (ed.), Poetry and prophecy. The beginnings of a literary tradition, Ithaca 1990, 75-119

Jones, Alan, «Poetry and Poets», in: Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān, General Editor: Jane Dammen McAuliffe, Georgetown University, Washington DC. Consulted online on 07 January 2017 <http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/1875-3922_q3_EQSIM_00332>

Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition

S̲h̲iʿr (25,803 words) (a.), poetry.

1. In Arabic.

(a) The pre-modern period. It is the supreme ornament of Arab culture and its most authentically representative form of discourse. The ideas articulated by poetry and the emotional resonances which it conveys earn it, even in the present day, where numerous new literary forms are in competition with it, the approval of scholars and the populace alike.

Despite the phonetic resemblance, s̲h̲iʿr is totally unconnected with the Hebrew s̲h̲īr , the ʿayn is a “hard” consonant which persists in the roots common to the two languages. The term is attested in ancient Arabic (G. Lankester Harding, An index and concordance of pre-Islamic Arabian names and inscriptions, Toronto 1971, 350-1) and very often used in pre-Islamic poetry. I. S̲h̲iʿr and its synonyms.

The equivalents here are not simple synonyms; they stress one aspect or another of the poetics of s̲h̲iʿr. (i) It is appropriate to cite in the first instance the terms, the content of which suggests the notion of quality and of major artistic merit; thus ḳaṣīd would denote artistic poetry as opposed to rad̲j̲az (Lane, root ḳ-ṣ-d , 2531b-2532a; Alī al-D̲j̲undī, al-S̲h̲uʿarāʾ wa-ins̲h̲ād al-s̲h̲iʿr , Cairo 1969, 13). The same is true of ḳawāfī: ḳafā , in the first form, signifies the honouring of some person with a mark of distinction (Ibn Ḳutayba, al-S̲h̲iʿr wa ’l-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ , 61; al-Nahs̲h̲alī, 27, quoting Abū Tammām; Goldziher, Abhandlungen , i, 3, 14-15; Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 60); the same is true of durr (poetry) or durar (sing, durra “pearl”, Sīra , Göttingen 1858-60, 862, 1. 10; LA, xvi, 56, 1. 19, the poet al-Zafayān; Ibn Ḳutayba, op. cit., 508, 1. 15; Labīd, Dīwān , Leiden 891, 22, l. 15; Ag̲h̲ānī 3, x, 285, l. 20) and al-muḥabbar (fabric of high quality manufactured in the Yemen, Ruʾba, Dīwān, Berlin 1903, 61, xxxvi, v. 22; Ibn al-Muʿtazz, Ṭabaḳāt al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ , 385, quoting ʿAlī b. ʿĀṣim al-ʿAnbarī, Goldziher, op. cit., i, 129-31); ¶ (ii) terms which express perfect order and symmetry are also attested. Naẓm “the arrangement of pearls in a necklace” is said to express better than anything else this necessity, raised to the status of a guiding principle ( al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt , Oxford 1918, 717, l. 14; al-Marzubānī, al-Muwas̲h̲s̲h̲aḥ , Cairo 1343, 14, l. 14; ʿUbayd Allāh b. Ḳays al-Ruḳayyāt, Dīwān , Vienna 1902, 238, l. 1; al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ, Ḳiyān , in Rasaʾil , Cairo 1979, ii, 159, 1. 12; Muḥammad al-Ḳalāʿr, Aḥkām ṣanʿat al-kalām , Beirut 1985, 40; Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, i, 37). Another necklace of pearls, simṭ , denoted an entire poem; thus the Muʿallaḳāt were called sumūṭ ; in the same range of ideas, the poem of ʿAlḳama was considered the best necklace of all time, and each of its verses, a pearl. Nasad̲j̲a , sometimes associated with ḥāka , nasīd̲j̲ . and nasd̲j̲ “to weave, weaving” (see Ibn K̲h̲aldūn, al-Muḳaddima , iii, 332) belong to the same category (Wellhausen, Lieder der Hud̲ailiten , Berlin 1884, 116, l. 17; Ibn Ḳutayba, K. al-Maʿānī al-kabīr , Ḥaydarābād 1369/1946, 633, l. 19; 814, l. 9; Abū Dahbal , in JRAS, [1910], 1051, l. 2; al-Marzubānī, op. cit., 318, relates an opinion of Marwān b. Abī Ḥafṣa, innī ḳad ḥuktu ḳāfiyatan tuwāzinu hād̲h̲ā ’l-s̲h̲iʿra “I have already woven [= composed] verses which constitute the equivalent of this poetry”; Goldziher, op. cit., i, 132-3); (iii) the profession ṣināʿa in the sense of poetry is also attested (see below, The poetics of effort), and adab in the sense of rhymed speech, very frequent, is said to have insisted on a period of apprenticeship for the acquisition of culture by the novice-poet before full acceptance into the world of poetry. This equivalence seems to have been something ancient: in a tradition related by al-Nahs̲h̲alī ( al-Mumtiʿ , 24) the poet ʿAbd Allāh b. Ahtam (fl. in the reign of the caliph ʿUt̲h̲mān) takes pride in belonging to a family of udabāʾ Textually, it is established from the last decades of the Umayyad period onward with Muḥammad b. Kunāsa (d. 161/778) ( Ag̲h̲ānī 3, xiii, 344, 1. 4; see also Ruʾba, Dīwān, 16, vi, 40; S.A. Bonebakker, Early Arabic literature and the term Adab , in JSAI, v, 1984, 399, Bas̲h̲s̲h̲ār b. Burd; al-Mutanabbī: ana’l-lad̲h̲ī naẓara ’l-aʿmā ilā adabī “I am he whose poetry the blind man has seen”, (see al-ʿArf al-ṭayyib fī s̲h̲arḥ dīwān Abi ’l-Ṭayyib , Beirut 1887, 343, l. 11; Ibn Nubāta (d. 405/1015) who describes poets as udabāʾ, al-ʿAlawī, Naḍrat al-ig̲h̲rīḍ , 347; see also al-Nahs̲h̲alī, 18, 24). The term ḳarīḍ would add the idea of cutting into the living flesh of words, a material which resists and does not let itself be easily manipulated (al-ʿAlawī, op. cit., 8; Von Grunebaum, Growth and structure, 127; Ibn Ḳutayba, ibid, 222, 1. 14, ʿAmr b. Ḳamīʾa; al-Farrāʾ, Maʿānī al-Ḳurʾān , Cairo 1374, 140, 1. 6, Ḥumayd b. al-Arḳat; al-Mufaḍḍaliyyāt, 180 1. 1; al-Aʿs̲h̲ā, Dīwān, London 1928, civ, v. 8; ʿUmar b. Abi Rabīʿa, Dīwān, Leipzig 1901-9, 43, 1. 3; Zubayr b. Bakkār, Ḏj̲amharat nasab Ḳurays̲h̲ , i, 42, 1. 8; al-Ag̲h̲ānī 3 , x, 285, 1. 2; Goldziher, op. cit., i, 120-1).

Finally, it is appropriate to note that, for the archaic period and under the Umayyads, s̲h̲iʿr also signified hid̲j̲āʾ [q.v.]. Among numerous examples, worth mentioning is fa-hād̲h̲ā awānu ’l-s̲h̲iʿri sullat sihāmuhu “This is the moment of [injurious] poetry, the darts of which have been drawn from the quiver” ( al-Ḥamāsa , Bonn 1828, 646, l. 11, anonymous poet). Al-Farazdaḳ expresses grief on account of the false attribution to him of versified insults, a s̲h̲iʿr which he is supposed to have addressed to K̲h̲ālid b. ʿAbd Allāh al-Ḳasrī ( wa-rawwū ʿalayya ’l-s̲h̲iʿra wa-mā anā ḳultuhu “they have recounted [injurious] poetry under my name, that which I have never said”, Dīwān, Paris 1870, 222, l. 2; see also al-Ḥamāsa, 54, l. 28; al-Ṭabarī, ii, 1829, ¶ l. 2; Ibn Ḳutayba, Maʿānī , 708, l. 15; al-Balād̲h̲urī, Ansāb al-as̲h̲rāf , v, Jerusalem 1936, 318; Naḳāʾiḍ D̲j̲arīr wa ’l-Farazdaḳ , Leiden 1905-12, 126, l. 17). Finally, al-Mutawakkil al-Layt̲h̲ī (d. ca. 72/691) claims that he has never aimed the darts of s̲h̲iʿr against a Muslim (al-Ag̲h̲ānī 3 xii, 165, 1. 2).

II. Periodisation .

At a very early stage, as early in fact as the 2nd/8th century, the familiar distinction between three periods in the development of poetry is already evident in the writings of al-D̲j̲umaḥī (d. 231/845): pre-Islamic, the poetry known as muk̲h̲aḍram straddling the D̲j̲āhiliyya and Islam, and Muslim poetry written by poets born after the Revelation (Ibn Sallām al-D̲j̲umaḥī, Ṭabaḳāt fuḥūl al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ , 1394/1974, 23-4). With Ibn al-Muʿtazz (d. 296/908), this periodisation becomes more precise, since he mentions the verse of the ancient poets ( ḳudamāʾ ), of the muk̲h̲aḍramūn , of the awāʾil al-islāmiyyīn (the former Islamic poets), i.e. the Umayyad poets, and of the muḥdat̲h̲ūn (modern poets), i.e. the poets of the 2nd-3rd/8th-9th centuries ( Ṭabakāt al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ , 201). Currently, in spite of certain criticism which will be revealed shortly, the periodisation of Ibn al-Muʿtazz is followed unanimously, although some contemporary scholars would have preferred a less political and more genuinely literary division. Gibb, Blachère, Bencheikh and Heinrichs propose a more strictly cultural periodisation, distinguishing between four periods. Gibb identifies the heroic age, the age of expansion, the golden age (750-1055), the silver age (1055-1258), concluding with the age of the Mamlūks (1258-1800). The problems of such a classification are obvious: it is based on value judgment and assumes uninterrupted decadence during the period extending from 750 to 1800. Blachère ( Moments tournants dans la littérature arabe , in SI, xxvi [1966], 5-18) and Bencheikh ( Poétique , 11-18) identify the four following divisions: archaic period, a century of transition, the golden age and decline. Filshtinsky opposes the notion of cultural decline and asks how this conception is to be reconciled with the intense poetical activity attested in Egypt over three centuries (Filshtinsky, La périodisation dans la littérature arabe médiévale , in Narodi̊ Azii i Ajriki , 1962/4, 144-56).

To avoid the pitfalls of a historical division, W. Heinrichs proposes distinguishing three movements in the development of Arabic poetry, each of which has produced a type of poetry. The first, that of the Ḥid̲j̲āzī school, produced ca. 650 a form of love poetry characterised by a narrative theme describing the actions and reactions of persons drawn from life who address the audience directly (Heinrichs, 24). The second, that of badīʿ , opted for a poetry resolutely based on rhetorical embellishments, which have gradually been transformed into an artistic principle (25). “Fantastic” poetry constitutes the third movement: here the poet’s attention is turned away from reality and towards imagery. The poets of this movement offer their public images which could have no real existence. In later times, poems overloaded with ornamentation constitute in fact a combination of all the known genres; the end result is an increase in affectedness (52). This original conception, if recognised as valid, could prove extremely fruitful; however, Sperl denounces it as tainted with historicity and recommends that it should be avoided ( Mannerism , 3-4).

III. Poetic discourse and its original meaning.

(1) Origins . From the second half of the 3rd century A.D. onward, s̲h̲iʿr, in its contemporary form, seems to be associated with song (see below, the tradition mentioned by Sozomen; D̲j̲awād ʿAlī, ix, 85-8; Adonis, ¶ Poétique , 19-20; Ḥassān, Dīwān , London 1970, 420: “Sing in each poem that you speak, song is surely the favoured place of poetry”; T̲h̲uwaym and ʿAwwād, al-Sulayk b. al-Sulka ak̲h̲bāruhu wa-s̲h̲iʿruhu , Bag̲h̲dād 1984, 32-3, 50-1; Ibn Saʿrd, Nas̲h̲wat al-ṭarab , ʿAmmān 1982, i, 436 and bibl, where the poet offers to sing ( ug̲h̲annīkum ) a poem to the keepers of the flocks; al-Ag̲h̲ānī 3 xviii, 78, where Durayd b. al-Ṣimma, at the time of the recitation of a poem, is said to be in the process of singing ( tag̲h̲annā ); ʿAlī al-D̲j̲undī, op. cit., 6, 22, 24-5; S̲h̲. Ḍayf, 51; Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, i, 36). The poetry/song association should not be regarded as a peculiar phenomenon; among the Greeks, the poet is primarily called the bard, the singer. This s̲h̲iʿr mug̲h̲annā contradicts the generally accepted hypothesis on the beginnings of this form. Originally, it is said, it was linked with sad̲j̲ʿ and had taken its definitive form 150 years before Islam (al-D̲j̲umaḥī, op. cit., 112-13; al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ, K. al-Ḥayawān , Cairo, i, 74; resumed by al-Marzubānī, op. cit., 74; al-Suyūṭī, al-Muzhir , Cairo n.d., ii, 477; according to al-Nahs̲h̲alī, al-Mumtiʿ , 22, poetry allegedly took on its definitive form in the period of ʿAbd al-Muṭṭalib b. Hās̲h̲im b. ʿAbd Manāf or his father, in other words the great-grandfather or grandfather of the Prophet). Modern scholars do not disagree (Blachère, HLA, ii, 187-93; Adonis, Poétique, 22-3).

Vestiges of spontaneously-spoken poetry shed some light on the question. Al-Suyūṭī, quoting al-Aṣmaʿī, relates that the most ancient poetry of the Bedouin of the D̲j̲āhiliyya, that of the awāʾil al-ʿArab , amounted to a small number of verses spoken by men and women in response to a pressing emotional need (al-Muzhir, ii, 477). The poems of the wells (a case of ancestral usage among the Semitic peoples, cf. the Biblical s̲h̲īrat habeʾer , Num. xxi. 18-20), with striking structural, thematic and stylistic resemblances between the Bible and the verse of the Bedouin of the D̲j̲āhiliyya (D̲j̲awād ʿAlī, ix, 410-12, has assembled a large number of specimens of this poetry), lullabies and other fragments associated with infancy (Saʿīd al-Daywad̲j̲ī, As̲h̲ʿar al-tarḳīs , Bag̲h̲dād 1970, passim ), funereal dirges (Goldziher, Bemerkungen zur arabischen Trauerpoesie , in WZKM, xvi [1902], 308) and verses evoking skirmishes—all of these, rather than rhymed prose, supplied the first foundations.

Chronologically, it seems that al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ḳadīm , as it is known to us, is considerably older, if credence is to given to a tradition cited by the Greek historian Sozomen. This historian writing at the turn of the 4th-5th centuries, relates that the Arabs of the desert celebrated their victory over Queen Mavia and the Roman emperor Valens (i.e. between 364 and 378) with the singing of ballads ( odai ). This plural suggests that there was a cycle of poems; this cycle preceded the fragments of a similar cycle, that of the War of Basūs [q.v.], the specimen generally regarded as the oldest verse chronicle of the Arabs. It would therefore seem reasonable to move the appearance of this material back in time to the last quarter of the 3rd century, by virtue of the poetical tradition associated with Ḥīra and, more specifically, with ʿAmr b. ʿAdī, the first Lak̲h̲mid king of Ḥīra whose maternal uncle D̲j̲ad̲h̲īma lived in the 3rd century; ʿAmr, a historical figure, was allegedly the author of poetic fragments in classical Arabic aimed at ʿAmr b. ʿAbd al-D̲j̲inn (ʿIrfān S̲h̲ahīd, The composition of Arabic poetry in the fourth century, in Studies in the history of Arabia , ii, Pre-Islamic Arabia , Riyāḍ 1404/1984, 87-91).

(2) The poetic ritual. Arabic poetry is rooted in the oral; it was a voice before it acquired an alphabet, and what results from this is a concurrence between ¶ speech and its affective and emotional connotations. This aspect guides discourse towards the following stable procedures: (i) a poetic style overladen with a multiplicity of synonyms and comparisons; (ii) a predilection for allusive expression; (iii) recourse to a specialised language very different from daily speech; (iv) the use of stable poetic hybrids; and (v) the obligation to be predictable and to abstain from upsetting the audience (M. Zwettler, The oral tradition of Classical Arabic poetry, its character and implications, Columbus, Ohio 1978, 98-102, 109-20, 170-2; McDonald, Orally transmitted poetry in pre-Islamic poetry, Arabia and other pre-literate societies, in JAL, ix [1978], 26-30; J.T. Monroe, Oral composition in pre-Islamic poetry, in ibid., iii [1972], 36-8).

The poet knew that if he wanted to be heard and not to risk disappearance into obscurity, he was obliged to construct his discourse on the basis of an auditory aesthetic. This demanded the exclusion from his discourse of distant allusions and of hermetic or ambiguous statements; otherwise, he was in danger of breaking the continuity of the contact which linked him to the public. Thus in the pre-Islamic period, poetry declared that which the audience already knew, and poetic individualism consisted not in what was said but in the manner of its saying. Oral recitation was to leave on Arabic poetry a mark that would last for centuries; it would be, in Bencheikh’s words, an art of expression and not an art of creation. The recitation of pre-Islamic poetry was strangely reminiscent of a ritual; the officiating poet, who did not create poetry for himself, but for others, encouraged active participation on the part of his public as a means of appealing to the hearts of his hearers. Poetic engagement derived in this case from the limpidity of the verse and the familiarity of experienced listeners with the wording and with the thematic sequence of the ḳaṣīda (A. Hamori, On the art of medieval Arabic literature, New York 1974, 21-2, 24; Adonis, Poétique, 34-5).

This ritualistic aspect of poetry was consolidated by the concept of divine inspiration, already current in the earliest periods. If traditions are to be believed, the great bards of the D̲j̲āhiliyya considered that the poem was the speech of a god or of a d̲j̲innī (demon). It is alleged in this context that ʿAbīd b. al-Abraṣ (fl. in the D̲j̲āhiliyya) saw in a dream a messenger who touched him with a ball of hair ( kubba min s̲h̲aʿr , cf. the graphical resemblance between s̲h̲aʿr and s̲h̲iʿr ); he commanded him to awake; he rose and began reciting rad̲j̲az (al-Ag̲h̲ānī 1, xix, 84) and became a poet. He is no different from the prophet Isaiah, who was touched by the angel with a burning coal, in a dream, and began prophesying immediately afterwards (Isa. vi. 5-8). More often, the d̲j̲inn are evoked both before and after Islam (Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, i, 34-5; CHAL, i, 41). Von Grunebaum has emphasised, rightly, their resemblance to the Muses: Hesiod, describing his encounter with the Muses, records an experience which is comparable, structurally, to that of Ḥassān with the d̲j̲inn at the time of his first steps in poetry ( Aesthetic , 333).

This discourse, communicated to the poets by supernatural creatures, possesses a magical force on account of its provenance and also on account of the perfect arrangement of the verbal veneer; this is true not only for curses, as has been proved magisterially by Goldziher (see hid̲j̲āʾ ; Von Grunebaum, Growth , 123), but also for the madīḥ who enjoys lasting renown. A Bedouin declares, after receiving a reward from ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, “the eulogy keeps perpetually alive the name of the one who practises it” (Ibn Ras̲h̲īḳ, i, 29; see also Gaudefroy-Demombynes, p. xviii).¶

This concept, albeit somewhat modified, persists after Islam (al-D̲j̲undī, op. cit., 19-20, quoting Ruʾba). Abān al-Lāḥiḳī (d. ca. 200/816) falsely accused by Abū Nuwās of being homosexual, finds himself deprived of his role as lector to the Barāmika. His patrons know it well, but even tendentious poetry is irreversible; they tell him, quoting a pre-Islamic verse:

[ basīṭ ]

Ḳad ḳīla mā ḳīla in ṣidḳan wa-in kad̲h̲iban

fa-mā iʿtid̲h̲āruka min ḳawlin id̲h̲ā ḳīlā

“What has been said has been said, be it true or false,

How can you be excused against words already spoken?”

(Ibn al-Muʿtazz, 204)

(3) Artistic poetry. In order to be effective, poetic discourse needed to be distinguished by its high aesthetic tone and to express the values of ambient society.

The role allotted to poetry seems to have been that of giving to the generality a unique image in a unique language. Throughout the period, this discourse is seen as definitely and definitively evolving. The diverse dialects and various approaches are blended in a literary language which develops to encompass metre and other disciplines; new types of comparisons come into being (Von Grunebaum, Growth , 123). In the pagan era, spontaneous poetry coexists with fashioned creations which are extremely demanding in their pursuit of a more developed aesthetic. This pursuit reflects the effort of generations of poets who have broadened their range of enquiry and their vision; from the spontaneous glimpse of nomadic life and of the mundane, there is progress towards more profound reflection and interpretation of life. The best and most successful example of this seems to be the exceedingly elaborate treatment of human time. Beyond the existential anguish deriving from the confrontation between human duration and objective time, the majority of poets have considered time to be a cyclical process wherein tension arises from the opposition between the eternal renewal of temporal units and the limited nature of the units of existence allotted to man. Poetry of sterling quality can triumph over time. Consequently, the poet raises the praxis to a very high artistic level. This is primarily an exercise in recollection; the poet evokes memories of love and acts of valour. Verbs in the perfect tense predominate, perhaps to emphasise the fixed and intangible, hence unalterable nature of the murūʾa of the poet’s family, of himself and of his patron. Other favourite themes sung by the poets, such as nostalgia for past loves or lamentations for the dead ( rit̲h̲āʾ ) take on, sometimes, a poignant tone. Only descriptions of animals are in the imperfect tense, with the scene unrolling before our eyes. This is no longer a function of memory, rather of events-in-progress.

In the thematic patterns of eulogy, of lamentations and evocations of tribal glory, the poet expressed the group more than he expressed himself. First person singular became subsumed by first person plural, but the poet’s role as spokesman remained distinct. He was the witness and the singer. In all other classes of poetry, the poet plays the leading role: he sings of his individual success, and his personal determination to confront the desert and its perils in the camel-related sections. The human, through individual effort, triumphs over the void and the negation symbolised by the desert (A. Miquel, al-Ṣaḥrāʾ fī muʿallaḳat Labīd , in Ḥawliyyāt al-Ḏj̲āmiʿa al-Tūnisiyya , xii [1975], 63-88). It is not at all coincidental that this section concludes ¶ with the release of the hunted animal and its coupling which presages a new life (the plerosis , cf. Hamori’s analysis, op. cit., 21-5).

One of the paradoxes of pre-Islamic poetry is touched upon here. It is individual, emotional and passionate on the one hand; on the other hand, the self, frequently transcended by the tribe, appears to reflect a collective consciousness (Adonis, Poétique , 19).

Accordingly, rhymed speech adopts a dual course with the existence, alongside tribal poetry, of another which is urban or semi-urban. Ibn Sallām al-D̲j̲umaḥī notes a definite contrast between s̲h̲iʿr ahl al-bādiya , the poetry of the Bedouin of the desert, and that of the Meccans, characterised by softness ( līn ) and facility; he adds to them the poetry of ʿAdī b. Zayd, of al-Aʿs̲h̲ā and of Umayya b. Abi ’l-Ṣalt. All of these and many others among the tribal poets are tied to patrons who provide for their upkeep in exchange for bombastic eulogies. Takassub , earning one’s living, dates back to the D̲j̲āhiliyya and does not constitute, by any means, a stylistic vice associated with post-D̲j̲āhilī urban civilisation. In the archaic period, the phenomenon was anything but limited; very few poets of the 6th century escaped its attractions.

While tied to patronage, this body of poets maintained its links with the tribal group through the intercessory role which it played in its contacts with patrons. On several occasions Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā and the two Nābig̲h̲as, al-D̲h̲ubyānī and al-D̲j̲aʿdī, intervened in defence of the interests of their fellow-tribesmen. However, a development of the very highest importance took place when a poetry devoid of any tribal association came to the forefront. This poetry ceased to play a tribal role; hencefoward it was obliged to appeal to an audience more refined than tribesmen and itinerants, to more demanding connoisseurs; in this, poetry was the winner. This amounted in fact to progress.

An unmistakable sign of this ascent towards more constraining artistic demands is supplied by conventions at the level of expression which underline the inclusion of this form of discourse among the highest strata of speech (Blachère, HLA, ii, 386; Bencheikh, Poétique, 8).

On the level of expression, it is appropriate to note not only the use of the dual, the apostrophising of two companions, but also clichés such as the comparison of the traces of an encampment in the sand with tattoos or with letters drawn by a scribe, the various tropes in the descriptions of animals, the description of weapons of war and of the beloved woman. From the archaic period onward, the codification of the poetic text is an established feature. The poet, far from feeling trapped in a straitjacket of constraining and dominating elements, settles comfortably into a protective tradition; or, more accurately, convention constitutes an instrument which he fashions as he pleases, but which he cannot change on pain of derogation. Conventions constitute a code to which conformity is obligatory; otherwise, damage is done to the harmony and to the perfect arrangement supplied by poetic discourse.

A great modern Arab poet and original thinker, Ṣalāḥ ʿAbd al-Ṣabūr, has stressed the utility of the conventions. While it is true that the greatest talents are capable of dispensing with them, the majority of poets find in these constraining rules a stock of tropes, of hybrids and poetical expressions sanctified by usage and by the sanction of ambient society, a stock which they are only too eager to plunder ( Ḳirāʾa d̲j̲adīda , 13).

(4) New horizons. It was to be a few decades before ¶ the new religion changed the poets’ vision of the universe; the great conquests suddenly immersed the victors in an urban environment and contributed to the fragmentation of the various clans, already weakened by war and the crises of the time. Although paganism disappeared, an Islamic verbal art was yet to emerge. The majority of poets seem to have considered Islam a social and political movement rather than a profound spiritual experience. All of this contributed to the straining of relations between the tribe and poetry. The poets were to follow the course previously traced by the incense-bearing poets of pre-Islam, notably the poets of Ḥīra. The domestication of poetry was now complete; caliphs and governors encouraged these artists to compose eulogies for them with the aim of consolidating their régimes and bolstering their personal prestige. Henceforward, s̲h̲iʿr was transformed into a privilege reserved for the prince and his courtiers. Committed and personal poetry was now of secondary, even marginal importance, as the poets harnessed their best artistic resources to the requirement of official compositions.

As a result of this process, lasting and very fruitful mutations transformed the world of poetry. A new artistic liberty was born, freed from the modes dictated by genres of secular life, and a poetry of conflicts and contradictions came into being. In ʿIrāḳ, and specifically in Kūfa, a poetry of libertinism and pleasure prefigured the most successful examples of mud̲j̲ūn [q.v.] composed by the ẓurafāʾ of Kūfa and the innovatory poets of the 2nd/8th century. Poems celebrating the variegated humanity of taverns by al-Uḳays̲h̲ir al-Asadī (d. 80/699, most fragments in al-Ag̲h̲ānī3 , xi, 251-76), the cruel and acidly humorous portraits by ʿAbd Allāh b. Zabīr al-Asadī (d. ca. 80/699, fragments in ibid., xiv, 216-62) and the gallant exploits of Ismāʿīl b. ʿAmmār al-Asadī (d. towards the end of the Umayyad dynasty, in ibid., xi, 364-79; Ibrāhīm al-Nad̲j̲d̲j̲ār, Mad̲j̲maʿ al-d̲h̲ākira , Tunis 1989, 221-33)—all of these introduce an original tone, with previously unknown metaphors and themes coexisting with the content of the mād̲j̲in concept. Such poems as these are apt to flourish among poets when restrictions are removed and all constraints relaxed. These poems, as well as the amorous works of the poets of the Ḥid̲j̲āz, demonstrate that poetic discourse served for them as a catharsis; by means of it, they could escape from dispossession, from tensions, from oppression and from massacres (CHAL, i, 394).

The ḳaṣīda , quintessence of the pre-Islamic artistic traditions, underwent certain modifications, although the descriptive passages are remarkable for their fidelity to the archaic model. The urban poems composed according to traditional models do not have the coherence which is characteristic of the most successful poems of pre-Islam. The great poets of the period, with the exception of al-Ak̲h̲ṭal (d. 92/710) and D̲h̲u ’l-Rumma (d. 117/735) [q.vv.], succeeded only with rather disjointed and pluri-thematic poems; numerous poems by D̲j̲arīr and al-Farazdaḳ included several topics which were not linked conceptually. Only the artifice known as ḥusn al-tak̲h̲alluṣ “good transition” made it possible at a later stage to effect a formal fusion of heterogeneous motifs. At the same time, there developed in the Ḥid̲j̲āz a poetic movement of constantly increasing influence; this was the Ḥid̲j̲āzi school, mentioned above. Numerous poets of this school created a narrative poetry in the full sense of the term. This original approach furnished well-crafted compositions and discourse with a degree of continuity, since the omnipresent concept of the verse as an independent ¶ unit is seriously challenged here (Von Grunebaum, Growth , 132-3; Heinrichs, 47).

(5) The poetical profession according to the testimony of the poets. Poetical texts, which are supposedly texts of the period, are unanimous in presenting poetry as a recalcitrant material, which is only to be tamed by dint of painful and prolonged effort. This testimony is highly significant since it is attested in a neutral context. In his testament, al-Ḥuṭayʾa (d. ca. 50/652-3 [q.v.]) takes stock of the whole of his career and gives his own perspective on patterns of composition. The dominant theme which emerges is as follows. The difficulty of composing, since the tortuous paths of s̲h̲iʿr are strewn with perils, means that the poet needs to confront this constantly; only a solid training ( ʿilm ) enables him to control the material which he seeks to fashion ( Dīwān , Cairo 1987, 291).

Kaʿb b. Zuhayr [q.v.] (d. in the reign of Muʿāwiya b. Abī Sufyān) does not disagree. The outstanding poem is a fabric of superb quality; it is the result of prolonged effort and commitment on the part of the poet-artisan. In a quatrain composed in response to an explicit request from al-Ḥuṭayʾa, one of his father’s pupils, he describes in lavish detail the process of polishing by which the poem is turned into a smooth piece of woven material, free of knots and of the same density throughout. In other words, in order to attain a harmonious and symmetrical discourse of outstanding quality, it is necessary to control the verbal core and to fashion it by means of incessant arrangement and rearrangement. Recourse to the term t̲h̲aḳḳafa dispenses with the need for any commentary. In its original sense, it signifies to rectify, straighten; it was used in the making of spears, at the stage of straightening wood which is naturally curved; it is thus a process of rectification of an inert material (Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 59, bibl. n. 60).

Tamīm b. Muḳbil, himself a muk̲h̲aḍram poet (d. ca. 70/690), expresses similar concepts. Verse is by nature rebellious (root m-r-d); as a superb poet, he has succeeded in overcoming the stubborn mountains of poetry ( ḥuzūn d̲j̲ibal al-s̲h̲iʿr ) and reducing them to amenable plains; once controlled, verse reveals all its hidden beauty and attracts the admiration of the public (Dīwān, Damascus 1962, 136). At no time is the poet found boasting of his facility at composition, or developing a poetry of improvisation or of immanent inspiration. Only Imruʾ al-Ḳays boasts of the abundance of his inspiration; verses come rushing to him in such numbers that they risk becoming congested; he repels them energetically ( ad̲h̲ūdu ’l-ḳawāfiya ʿannī ) before proceeding to a choice, retaining only the most perfect and discarding the minor pearls (Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 60).

The craft and the polishing were indispensable for the acquisition by poets of two cardinal qualities, nafas (breath) and d̲j̲azāla (robustness and purity of poetic language), necessary for the composition of set pieces. However, it would be a mistake to exaggerate the importance of the notion of apprenticeship and its defining role; it amounted to nothing more than an idealised approach conceived at a late stage, in the 3rd/9th century, in order to justify a certain conception of fuḥūla and of archaic poetry. In fact, poetry was considered a natural gift ( ṭabʿ ), an innate predisposition. If natural talent did not exist in a person, no apprenticeship could make him a poet.

The Umayyad poets expressed views similar to those of their D̲j̲āhilī forbears regarding the nature of poetry and the criteria of composition. S̲h̲iʿr is conceived as a challenge between two equally-determined adversaries, ¶ the poet and the poetry. There is insistence on hard work and effort. At no time is there any reference to a poet in a state of grace, cut off from the rest of the world as he composes, with a seething mass of ideas and images bubbling in his breast and seeking release by way of his mouth.

In the framework of a ḳaṣīda of threats, Suwayd b. Kurāʿ (born at the beginning of Islam, he reportedly reached the era of D̲j̲arīr and al-Farazdaḳ), devotes eight verses to describing, in bombastic tone, his manner of composing superior verses. The ideas developed are as follows: poetry, like a disobedient young camel (cf. ʿarūḍ ; one of its meanings is a camel very difficult to control), allows itself to be tamed only by the best riders. The verses ( ḳawāfī ) are described as ʿawāsī (disobedient) and as a band of recalcitrant wild animals ( sarban min al-wuḥūs̲h̲i nuzzāʿ ); it must be treated with a great deal of patience; humbly, the poet needs to display tact and to devise strategems during sleepless nights ( abītu bi-abwābi ’l-ḳawāfī ... ukāliʾuhā ḥattā uʿarrisa “I spend nights at the gates of rhymes ... until I possess them”). This is the price at which it allows itself to be possessed; the term ʿarras shows that the possession is carnal. The poet-possessor must show great vigilance, for with poetry everything is problematical: once mastered, it must be carefully confined in the depths of one’s heart (v. 10); otherwise, the verses will flee faraway; they can only be recaptured by means of prodigious efforts which leave indelible traces in the body of the poet (Ibn Ḳutayba, op. cit., 17). ʿAdī b. al-Riḳāʿ, a contemporary of Suwayd, considers his role as that of a craftsman, planning terms and verses in order to smooth the rough areas and promote harmony among the verses, thus succeeding in composing a ḳaṣīda of the highest quality. D̲h̲u ’l-Rumma employs the same images in his attempt to characterise the composition of the poem as closely resembling the training ( riyāḍa ) of a weaned animal ( Dīwān , Cambridge 1919, 329-30, w. 26-9; Goldziher, op. cit., 94; partially translated by Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 60).

The approach expressed by these poets, all of them from the first century of the Hid̲j̲ra, suggests a stable profession and a perfect mastery of the tools of the trade. For a poet, to compose means enhancing the fruits of his inspiration by means of the memorisation which mobilises, every time that the artist creates his poem with the memory which utilises the finest realisations of his linguistic and poetic heritage, retained since the period of his training. Ṣalāḥ ʿAbd al-Ṣabūr considers this strenuous poetic technique an act of homage on the part of the poet towards an immeasurable legacy: in some sense, he writes, the poet presents his poem to this stock which constitutes the quintessence of sensibility and its perfect expression as realised in the ancient poetry ( Ḳirāʾa d̲j̲adīda , 15).

IV. The effervescence of urban poetry.

Cultural prosperity, the practice of translation which was institutionalised from the end of the 2nd/8th century onward, the development of written translation according to rigorous criteria in the various disciplines, major conflicts of ideas and the constitution of an Arabic prose capable of expressing the most complex thoughts—all of these factors exerted influence on both poetry and poetics.

(1) The evolution of discourse. Under the earlier ʿAbbāsids, Arabic poetry remained an essentially lyrical text, descriptive in character. This lyricism reflected the unwillingness of the poet, unless commanded to do so, to deal with exterior phenomena or social relations. ¶ In this framework, poems denouncing the vanities of the world ( zuhdiyyāt , according to Heinrichs, 25), the poetry of sexual perversion ( mud̲j̲ūniyyāt , according to ibid.) and Bacchic poetry ( k̲h̲amriyyāt ) were treated with special favour. Complaints about life and its misfortunes are liberally scattered in numerous poems of this period. This is not, strictly speaking, a poetry of asceticism but rather an absolute denunciation of life; it could be said that the texts delight in demonstrating the campaign of systematic annihilation conducted by life against the human being. Evoked here are the deterioration and subsequent death which accompany the process of life; also stressed is the absence of any metaphysical dimension and the desire merely to detach the man from the world below, a hunting-ground reserved for villains and sensualists. The s̲h̲akwā ’l-zamān is a poetry of setback and of impotence. More than is the case with zuhd , it constitutes at the most a decidedly superficial poetry of edification. As for sexual perversion, the distinction is drawn between poems dedicated to the ephebe with the ẓurafāʾ of Kūfa, Abū Nuwās, al-Ḥusayn b. al-Ḍaḥḥāḳ and Dīk al-D̲j̲inn, versus phallic poems with Abū Ḥakīma, Ibn al-Ḥad̲j̲d̲j̲ad̲j̲ and Ibn Sukkara, or the poems in praise of onanism by Abu ’l-ʿAnbas al-Ṣaymarī. These poems, in which exacerbated emotional states are to be detected, seem to have expressed, at least initially, a rebellion against society and a refusal to subscribe to its values. Later, this poetry was to enjoy social indulgence, at least with the poetry dedicated to ephebes, and its usages became generalised even in the work of poets who did not practise perversions.

At the same time, a clear demarcation further widens the gulf between longer pieces and fragments, or if preferred, between set-piece and impromptu poetry. This distinction facilitates a more profound understanding of the evolution of poetry in the 2nd/8th century. Much is owed here to the specific contribution of Jamel Bencheikh. The impromptu, as Bencheikh rightly declares, comprises several rhymed phrases, of great simplicity and with a single theme (Heinrichs, 36, describes these very short poems as spontaneous poetry; they address a single theme). What matters here is the rapidity of the response and its spiritual quality. It is therefore the nimbly-elevated impromptus which most delight the literary coteries. The themes of this elegant discourse are well known and were worn threadbare by long service; they are confined to love-sickness, invitations to trysts, excuses, reproaches, compliments or wise aphorisms. The ʿAbbāsid coteries preferred this supposedly “natural” poetry to the ḳaṣīda with its immutable conventions. In fact, poets did not have a choice; in the mad̲j̲lis , they were under instructions to improvise forthwith or to reply in the course of a contest. This poetry, of rather lofty formal elegance, expressed stereotypes briskly in a minor tone, sometimes in fairly exaggerated style. In fact, this amounts to an exercise in re-use of the acquired skills of set-piece poetry rather than a creation at the level of composition (Bencheikh, Poétique , 68-79). On the other hand, the long piece is a product of reflective creation and demands prolonged and laborious preparation, essential if the poet is to invent original hybrids, thus expressing new maʿānī and a large number of motifs (ibid., 80; 113; Muṣṭafā Haddāra, Ittid̲j̲āhat al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿarabī fi ’l-ḳarn al-t̲h̲ānī al-hid̲j̲rī , Cairo 1963, 148-9, 162).

This situation leads furthermore to the depreciation of poetry; it is considered an amusement or, at best, little more than pleasing discourse. ¶

(2) Poetics . These centuries are the golden age of theoretical writing. Most striking is the profusion of these works and their diversity; alongside the poets, there is a proliferation of transmitters, essayists, mutakallimūn , philologists, critics and philosophers. The result does not fail to impress, in spite of the absence of systematic thought, the constitution of clearly-defined poetics and the tendency of poetical treatises to be pragmatic rather than theoretical; it is appropriate to mention here one substantial exception, the writings of the philosophers. The contribution of Von Grunebaum in this domain has been decisive.

A. The poets

Generally, but not always, they maintain their conception of the poetics of effort. In the works of Abu ’l-ʿAmayt̲h̲al (d. in the 3rd/9th century) the same clichés are found, referring to the rectification of material which is naturally misshapen (ʿAlī al-D̲j̲undī, op. cit., 115); to the weaver bent over his work in the writing of al-Sayyid al-Ḥimyarī (d. ca. 179/795, term aḥūk , ibid., 114); Ibn al-Rūmī (d. 283/896) adds to the analogies of his two predecessors the well-known one of the wild camel, but he also insists on the efforts that he invests in embellishment and refinement ( arhaftuhā and raḳḳaktuhā , Dīwān , Cairo 1993, 359-60, w. 2-9). It is not until the second half of the 3rd/9th century that the term ṣanʿa in its poetic sense is attested in a poem among the works of al-Nās̲h̲iʾ al-Akbar (d. 293/906), in a verse praising his expertise and the harmony ( taʾlīf ) of his verses (Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, Min turāt̲h̲ al-naḳd al-ʿarabī , Abu ’l-ʿAbbās al-Nās̲h̲iʾ al-Akbar wa-kitābuhu fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr , in Mad̲j̲allat Kulliyyat al-Ādāb , Ḏj̲āmiʿat al-Riyāḍ , v [1977-8], 179, v. 1). Furthermore, as a result of titivation and corrective work ( tahd̲h̲īb ), his poem acquires an inimitable quality and, thereby, provokes embarrassment and surprise ( yataḥayyaru ’l-s̲h̲uʿarāʾu ): in fact, the form ( al-lafẓ ) and the content ( al-maʿnā ) are integrated in absolute fashion ( alfaytamaʿnāhu yuṭābiku lafẓahu ) and its apparent facility conceals the inability of other poets to compose a comparable text. It is only at this price that the durability of poems can be assured (v. 7).

In the second long section of 18 verses devoted to poetic genres, the four opening verses provide a detailed survey of the content of this concept among poets and the various tasks which it entails. Ṣanʿa implies a rectification of the distortion of material ( zayg̲h̲ ), the consolidation of the texture of the poem ( s̲h̲add al-mutūn bi ’l-tahd̲h̲īb ); the poet should plug the gaps in his discourse by means of prolixity, assert his finest qualities by means of concision, impose harmony through the conciliation of opposites and clarity through the juxtaposition of analogous or similar maʿānī (ibid., 192). The poets of this period evince vigorous opposition to the poetics of facility; such a conception is quite rare in poetical compositions (see e.g. S̲h̲iʿr Abī Ḥayya al-Numayrī , Damascus 1975, 160, w. 1-3). Ṣināʿa and s̲h̲iʿr were so closely linked that they have been used as synonyms in two instances in the writings of Abu ’l-ʿAtāhiya ( wa-rad̲j̲aʿnā ilā ’l-ṣināʿati lammā * kāna suk̲h̲tu ’l-imāmi tarka ’l-ṣināʿati , “I returned to poetry when the Imām was seized by wrath following [my] abandonment of poetry”; the poet refers to his decision to relinquish poetry on account of his religious convictions, and to al-Ras̲h̲īd’s decision to imprison him in order to compel him to return to composition, al-Ag̲h̲ānī 1, iii, 160,1. 20; see also 149,1. 20).

B. The critics

(a) Ṣanʿa as opposed to ṭabʿ.

Numerous tendencies are in collision here, dictated by literary attitudes, but determined also by controversies ¶ unrelated to poetry. At a very early stage, from the 2nd/8th century onward, the poetics of effort are called into question as critics extol the virtues of natural talent, maṭbūʿ . The factor giving rise to this attitude seems to have been the revival, after a temporary eclipse caused by the hostility of the new religion, of the theory of inspiration, deriving from occult and supernatural forces. Discourse placed in the mouth of the poet, which is a receptacle and nothing more, by its very nature requires no improvement. From another perspective, it seems that the Muʿtazilī circles of Baṣra, including al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ, considered true eloquence to be that which is uttered spontaneously without the least effort; ideal poetry would not differ at all from improvised discourse; this quality belongs naturally to the Bedouin of the D̲j̲āhiliyya and their poets. The profession objected to this postulate, it being, according to the Baṣran thinker, the contrary of eloquence. Other scholars of the same city, in particular Ibn Sallām al-D̲j̲umaḥī, al-Aṣmaʿī and his school, responsible for the constitution of the classical corpus, were of the same opinion. All of them must have been profoundly influenced by the improvised contests held in the Mirbad [q.v.].

One of the most ancient texts on poetics is the ṣaḥīfa of Bis̲h̲r b. al-Muʿtamir. Here the author develops, in Heinrich’s words, a rudimentary theory of ṭabʿ (talent) and of nas̲h̲āṭ (creative force) ( Arabische Dichtung , 286). The primary condition for being in a position to compose is, he asserts, the creative force; all depends on this and on its favourable disposition ( id̲j̲āba ). Once this has been acquired and beyond the obligation to adopt al-lafẓ al-s̲h̲arīf (a noble poetic language) and al-maʿnā al-badīʿ (the most original modalities of expression), Bis̲h̲r advises the artist to avoid unduly laborious efforts which could result in affectedness. On the contrary, he should opt for discourse which is fluent in terms of pronunciation, for easy and direct maʿānī. In parallel, he should set aside hermetic figures and complicated hybrids, since there is a risk that these will undermine the themes and neutralise the impact of the words. In common with the other classical critics, he takes great care to separate al-lafẓ from al-maʿnā. Four qualities are required for the language: softness, elegance, majesty and fluency. As for modalities (maʿānī), those chosen should be clear and immediately comprehensible (al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ. Bayān , i, 135-6, 137).

Al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ, too wise a connoisseur to fail to understand the importance of the ṣanʿa element, confines himself to recording his distate for these over-finical poets whom he calls ʿabīd al-s̲h̲iʿr (“the slaves of poetry”) and his objection to excessively polished poems, al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ḥawlī (“poems taking a year to compose”). However, it should be stressed that over-worked, i.e. excessively re-worked poetry was not considered bad poetry. The reverse was the case. Ibn Ḳutayba considers the poetry resulting from study an excellent discourse, solidly constructed ( d̲j̲ayyid muḥkam ). But the experts have no difficulty identifying the patterns, the prolonged reflection and the strained thought of the author; furthermore, the latter does not refrain from recourse to poetic licences ( ḍarūrāt ); connoisseurs can tell that he has omitted the modalities of expression which were necessary; on the other hand, he praises the facility of composition of the maṭbūʿ and his total mastery of the material; immediately obvious are the splendour of his talent ( rawnaḳ al-ṭabʿ ) and the wealth of his temperament; finally, he does not fail to admire the transparency of the maʿānī since, he says, the first hemistich prefigures the end of the verse and the beginning gives a clear impression of rhyming style ¶ (Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 24-6). The deliberations of Ibn Ḳutayba reveal the veritable point at issue. Beyond spontaneity and the gift of improvisation, there is a certain conception of poetry which is considered legitimate: the facile and transparent text is alone held to conform to the genius of a poetic sensibility and its modes of expression.

In post-D̲j̲āḥiẓian poetics, these concepts take on a rather different meaning. Ṣināʿa in the sense of “titivation” was never denounced by the ancient theoreticians, on the contrary (S̲h̲awḳī Ḍayf, 19-37). The rapidity of inspiration, and the talent, coming quickly once summoned, are followed by a phase of labour and refinement aimed at eliminating the dross; the poet casts and recasts and purifies his material through a process of quite intensive alteration (fine passages recorded by Gaudefroy-Demombynes, pp. xxix-xxxi). With the first successes of the school of badīʿ (the taṣnīʿ of S̲h̲awḳī Ḍayf, 219-39) and the extension of ṣanʿa to all phases of composition, the critics established a distinction between the craft of the Ancients which derives from a sad̲j̲iyya (natural tendency) and that of the Moderns. Among the latter, it signifies “artificial and acquired”, since their poetic language is the fruit of study and of reflection ( al-taḥṣīl wa ’l-riwāya ); it is incompatible with ṭabʿ (natural disposition), being mutaṣanniʿ , mutakallif or artificial, M. Ajami, 53-4. Curiously, Abū Hilāl al-ʿAskarī reports the champion of ṭabʿ, al-Buḥturī, as a conscientious craftsman, rejecting after the first draft everything which he found unsatisfactory. On the other hand, the representative of the meticulous poetical approach is presented as an unconditional partisan of the free-and-easy attitude, delivering the fruit of his inspiration without embellishing it; his phrase is thus tainted with numerous defects (Bencheikh, Poétique , 87). Most curiously, ṭabʿ seems to accompany intensive work in the phase which follows natural composition; takalluf appears to characterise the poetry of inspiration. The paradox is rather more apparent than real. In the process of creation, the maṭbūʿūn poets proceed after the composition of the verse to the embellishment of expression. Among the poets of badīʿ, gestation must have been very painful at the time of the translation of the poetical idea into images; having suffered so much, the poet refused to relinquish even the most preposterous image. Among the poets of this school, imagery reigns supreme. The poetical conception of Abu Tammām integrates creativity and craft in the process of the material translation of the image.

The ṭabʿ of the Ancients, confronting the affectedness of the Moderns, received its most systematic interpretation through the theory of ʿamūd al-s̲h̲iʿr , and later through that of the tarākīb al-ʿArab or that of the uslūb al-ʿArab of Ibn K̲h̲aldūn which legitimises a certain tradition of composition, that of the Bedouin of the D̲j̲āhiliyya, to the exclusion of all others (M.J. Ajami, ʿAmūd al-s̲h̲iʿr : legitimation of tradition, in JAL, xii [1981], 30-48; Ibn K̲h̲aldūn, al-Muḳaddima , iii, 329-33; Iḥsān ʿAbbās, Naḳd , 41-2, 627-30; Bencheikh, Poétique, 56-8).

This approach dominates for several centuries and has seldom been challenged. ʿAbd al-Ḳāhir al-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī (d. 471/1078 [q.v. in Suppl.]), a very original critic, declines to separate the diverse elements of a poem, which is considered as the fruit of an alchemy; combined in it are creative acuity, iḥsān (faculty of perfection), ibdāʿ (spirit of invention) and above all, sanʿa . According to him, it amounts to a spiritual force of creativity which sets in motion the imagination of the poet and enables him to illuminate the meagre or prosaic reality in a discourse which describes an ¶ unequalled splendour ( Asrār al-balāg̲h̲a , 241-2, 244, 250, 315-16).

The poet-theoretician Ibn S̲h̲uhayd (d. 426/1053 [q.v.]) anticipates in certain respects post-D̲j̲āḥiẓian criticism and the approach which considers ṭabʿ a spiritual force ( mawādd rūḥiyya ). On the basis of this principle, he reaches the conclusion that poetry is the fruit of imagination. His theory of beauty, a divine emanation, possesses strong neo-Platonian resonances, which are quite rare in classical poetry among the Arabs (Monroe, 140-2).

(b) Poetry as an ʿilm.

According to a tradition attributed to Ibn Sīrīn, ʿUmar b. al-K̲h̲aṭṭāb is supposed to have stated that poetry was the most authentic ʿilm of the Bedouin of the D̲j̲āhiliyya (Ibn Sallām, i, 24, § 32; al-Suyūṭī, ii, 473); similar opinions are attributed to ʿĀʾis̲h̲a, to Ibn ʿAbbās, and to other major figures of Islam (Ibn ʿAbd Rabbihi, v, 247; Ibn Sallām, i, 10; Ibn Ras̲h̲īḳ al-Ḳayrawānī, 30; al-Muẓaffar al-ʿAlawī, Naḍrat al-ig̲h̲rīḍ , 356-7; al-Zamak̲h̲s̲h̲arī, v, 218-19, § 132). From the 3rd/9th century onward, works of criticism follow the same line. Ibn Ḳutayba asserts in this context that poetry is the mine of sciences of the ancient Arabs, the book of their wisdom, the archives of their history, the treasury of their great days (sc. battles) and the rampart which defends their glory ( ʿUyūn al-ak̲h̲bār , Cairo 1925, ii, 185). Military, cultural, linguistic, literary and social history are found condensed in this discourse.

On the other hand, empirical observations of zoology, meteorology and botany accumulated in the same texts. Like any science, to be in a position to serve, it is essential that this poetry be authentic; otherwise, it has no utility. In effect, poetry of high quality is the proper means of inculcating the values of the Ancients, who were models of human behaviour. By means of the exalted maʿānī which it puts at the disposal of the cultivated man, it enables him to compose verses, adages and sentences which are so well cast that they appeal to the sympathies of audiences in all periods. ʿAbbāsid critics considered pre-Islamic poetry as a great reservoir of quotations of considerable utility for talented folk of all periods. The purpose of every poem is to dispense wisdom; in this, they are removed from our current conceptions which are alone responsible for the aesthetic finality.

In fact, these precious materials are in a sorry state on account of the considerable number of falsifications which have intruded (Ibn Sallām, 4, § 3, wa-fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿri muftaʿalun mawḍūʿun kat̲h̲īrun “in poetry, a considerable portion is false, forged and counterfeit”). This defect results from the written tadāwul (mode of transmission). In poetry, Ibn Sallām declares, it is necessary to set aside the gleanings of scriptory transmission ( wa-laysa li-aḥadin an yaḳbala ʿan ṣaḥīfatin wa-lā yarwī ʿan ṣuḥufī “all persons should refuse to accept a poem deriving from a register; they should decline to repeat the transmission of a connoisseur [trained] in the registers”, Ps.-al-K̲h̲alīl b. Aḥmad, K. al-ʿAyn , Bag̲h̲dād 1967, iii, 120). Furthermore the term taṣḥīf [q.v.] (forgery) was allegedly derived from ṣaḥīfa (al-D̲j̲awharī, al-Ṣiḥāḥ , Beirut 1979, vi, 1384, b.,’ 1.1).

Beyond the willingness to create a new branch of poetics, that of taṣḥīf, an attempt is observed on the part of Ibn Sallām to determine the identity of those entitled to transmit the classical heritage. It is from this perspective that it is appropriate to consider the charges against Ḥammād and members of his school. Was it his wish to entrust these tasks to scholars who worked according to the methods of the School of ¶ Baṣra and to shun the disciples of the School of Kūfa? The stakes were high; if this principle were followed, Baṣran scholars would become the sole guardians of pre-Islamic poetry or, in other words, the sole guarantors of the Arabic poetical corpus.

This attempt seems to have been long-lasting since the works of Ḥamza al-Iṣfahānī and of Abū Hilāl al-ʿAskarī on taṣḥīf contain an impressive list of Baṣran ʿulamāʾ . There is nothing Saussurian about this hostility towards the scriptory which emanates from conceptual intransigence. Writing, being by nature defective, did not permit an accurate and faithful transmission of texts. Works of poetics, of adab and of grammar teem with anecdotes concerning the errors and changes introduced by transmitters, errors attributable to graphical mistakes and to defective readings (Gaudefroy-Demombynes, 20-1, 71 [nn. 82, 84]; Ḥamza al-Iṣfahānī, al-Tanhīh ʿalā ḥudūt̲h̲ al-taṣḥīf , Bag̲h̲dād 1967, 55; al-Suyūṭī, op. cit., ii, 355).

The s̲h̲iʿr — ʿilm parity could derive, as Heinrichs maintains, from the care taken by theoreticians to exclude any trace of fiction from poetry. Whatever the case, this parity has made it possible to express in new terms the relations between the latter and religion.

Poetry and Islam

In Islam, the religious disciplines represent the ultimate ʿilm. The afore-mentioned equivalence legitimised poetry and conferred on it a status immediately below the sciences of religion in terms of the rigour and of the demands of authenticity. The noisy conflicts of the early stages soon gave way to a degree of tolerance, itself replaced in the 2nd-3rd/8th-9th centuries by a honeymoon: s̲h̲iʿr is accepted in the most orthodox circles as a privileged discipline of Islamic culture when it fulfils certain conditions; the very orthodox Ibn Ḳutayba writes in this context, wakullu ʿilmin muḥtād̲j̲un ilā ’l-samāʿi wa-aḥwad̲j̲u ilā d̲h̲ālika ʿilmu ’l-dīni t̲h̲umma ’l-s̲h̲iʿru “every science must be transmitted orally; and this requirement is nowhere so great as in the religious sciences, and after these in poetry” (op. cit., 20, tr. Gaudefroy-Demombynes; see also 70-1, nn. 7§-81, much valuable information provided by this eminent scholar). This mutation of s̲h̲aʿara (to feel) to s̲h̲aʿara (to know) in religious circles takes on in the opinion of the poet-theoretician Adonis the significance of a veritable revolution. Henceforward, poetry ceases to depend on simple sensation, i.e. the primary degree of cognition, and belongs to the universe of the most exalted truth ( Poétique , 77).

Poetry also figures prominently in the classification of sciences established by leading scholars.

Examination of such a list would seem to be considerably more informative than recourse to always unreliable traditions, regarding a favourable attitude on the part of the Prophet, of ʿĀʾis̲h̲a, of one or other Companion or Successor (traditions compiled and annotated by Muṣṭafā ʿUlayyān, Naḥw nahd̲j̲. islāmī fī riwāyat al-s̲h̲iʿr wa-naḳdihi , ʿAmmān 1944; al-Nahs̲h̲alī, 22; Gaudefroy-Demombynes, p. xxvi) (HAL, i, 391; Cantarino, 28-34, emphasise the negative attitude of these same figures with regard to poetry). In the course of time, the problem posed by these relationships ultimately loses all cultural or religious significance; it then recurs in ad̲j̲zāʾ pl. of d̲j̲uzʾ formally arranged in antithetical sections (ʿAbd al-G̲h̲anī b. ʿAlī al-Muḳaddasī, D̲j̲uzʾ aḥādit̲h̲ al-s̲h̲iʿr , ʿAmmān 1989, 37-80, favourable traditions, 81-98, unfavourable point of view.

Ibn Ḥazm (d. 456/1064 [q.v.]) places the ʿilm al-s̲h̲iʿr immediately after the sciences of the Ḳurʾān, of grammar and of lexicography. Like his predecessors, he assigns to this ʿilm a double aim, moral and utilitarian, ¶ and distinguishes three branches: one which is illicit in the case where a man devotes himself to it entirely; a second which is licit but subject to numerous reservations, since here the man devotes to it the most lucid part of his time; a third is strongly recommended, being the case in which the believer devotes to it a part of his time. Thus conceived, this science of poetry is of undoubted utility; it inculcates in the one who practises it wisdom ( ḥikma ) and a more profound understanding of Arabic grammar and language ( Risālat al-talk̲h̲īṣ li-wud̲j̲ūh al-tak̲h̲līṣ , in Rasaʾil Ibn Ḥazm al-Andalusī , Beirut 1981, iii, 163-4).

It should be clearly stated that at no time was there objection to poetry as such. Furthermore, only the believer who composes hid̲j̲āʾ or eulogies to someone who does not deserve this, or who composes frivolous poems evoking the fineries of women, is judged impious ( fāsiḳ ).

(c) The school of badīʿ or poetics according to Abū Tammām .

The ʿAbbāsid critics associate the appearance of badīʿ with modernity: the poets of their era opted for this poetic language because of their late arrival. For Ibn Ṭabāṭabā, the Ancients said everything because they preceded all others. Their verses encapsulated original maʿānī in the most elegant and the purest language. Modern poets could not compete with them in this domain. They thus exerted all their ingenuity to composing extremely reflective poems, their superiority residing in the subtlety of exceedingly elaborate thought. Their poems are the fruit of a sustained effort, they are mutakallif s in comparison with the natural fluidity of their predecessors (Ibn Ṭabāṭabā, 15). And then badīʿ appeared. The facts seem to confirm this analysis beyond all expectation. In fact, the first fruits are associated with Muslim b. al-Walīd [q.v.] alias Ṣarīʿ al-G̲h̲awānī (d. 208/823). It is said that he attempted in his poems to convey the message in terms of its finest image. He is the first, according to Ibn Ḳutayba, to have softened verse and rendered the sense subtle; he was also the source of inspiration of Abū Tammām ( S̲h̲iʿr , 528). Ibn Ḳutayba’s remarks clearly show that Abū Tammām is considered the undisputed champion of this school.

Von Grunebaum sees in the appearance of this poetic school a reaction against the platitudes engendered by the conceptions of modernist poets, who expressed their thoughts in excessively limpid language in short verses. The poetry of Abū Tammām constitutes an attempt to halt these modernists ( Growth , 132-3).

The poetics of badīʿ comprise the following elements: (i) the poetics of D̲j̲āhilī orality, based on a logical and apparent line between the signified and the signifier, is definitively rejected; images are dismantled, as are the hybrids and the inherited expressions which constituted the reservoir exploited by the poets of subsequent generations. The new imagery disconcerted critics and scholars with its original character; they saw it as eccentric poetry, bordering on anti-poetry, to borrow an expression of Ibn al-Aʿrābī. (ii) Rhetorical embellishment is consciously pursued; sometimes this is taken to absurd lengths, as was the case with Abū Tammām (Heinrichs, 25). Flourishes are raised to the status of essential principle of composition; they no longer constitute a device for enhancing the beauty of the discourse, (iii) Henceforward, the image constitutes an end in itself. The poets of badīʿ were prodigious builders of images: swords, in a poem of al-Mutanabbī, are dejected and emaciated by love-sickness ( al-Arf al-ṭayyib , 147, v. 1, ka-annamā ¶ yubdīna min ʿis̲h̲ḳi ’l-riḳābi nuḥūlā ). (iv) An extensive and profound knowledge of the treasures of the language is required for the unfettered composition of hybrids and metaphors, without which the language could constitute an obstacle, (v) The faculty of inventing maʿānī or that of forming new ones by means of derivation ( tawlīd al-maʿānī ) is considered a necessity. In fact, what is involved is the thorough exploitation of one maʿnā before moving on to another; this contributes to the cohesion and organic unity of the poem. By this procedure, the badīʿ school is clearly distinguished from previous methods of poetry, content to put forward the maʿnā or to deal with it very briefly, (vi) Poetic creativity is turned further towards original discovery, (vii) Badīʿ locates poetry in writing, all the more so since certain flourishes depend on a visual and graphical effect (cf. the very informative analysis by Adonis, Poétique , 50-5, 65-7).

This more reflective, more intellectualised poetry first astonished, then aroused strong reservations; theoreticians considered it a text dependent on reason rather than on sensation or song. In comparisons between Abū Tammām and al-Buḥturī, it is conventional to see in the former a thinker who speaks to the intellect and in the latter a singer who addresses the emotions. Furthermore, it perhaps facilitated the appearance of the theory of poetic obscurity.

(d) Limpidity as opposed to obscurity in poetry.

In the 2nd/8th century, writing had not succeeded in suppressing the orality of poetry; writing served as an instrument of memory for poets, and their discourse did not experience notable changes, particularly the separation of poetry from thought. On the basis of this principle, al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ proceeded to promote a poetry which would be beyond any interpretation and understood without exertion of thought. For this, easy and supple speech was an essential condition; to this end, recourse to g̲h̲arīb (rare terms) is denounced; on the other hand, the poet is encouraged to use words which are conventional, agreeable and easily heard, and thereby immediately grasped. In short, clarity is the supreme quality in poetry. More than any other, al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ advocated the poetics of wuḍūḥ or limpidity ( Bayān , i, 106; Bencheikh, Poétique, 84-6). This conception enjoyed lasting success, in the opinion of critics from Abū Hilāl al-ʿAskarī (Arazi, 485-7), by way of Ibn Sinān al-K̲h̲afād̲j̲ī ( Sirr al-faṣāḥa , Cairo 1932, 290-1; Arazi, 482) to Ibn al-At̲h̲īr ( al-Mat̲h̲al al-sāʾir , ii, 415-7; Arazi, 483). It is interesting in this context to note the high esteem in which tashīm is held (= the quality of a poem where the hearer, having heard the first hemistich is in a position to foresee the remainder of the verse and to anticipate with the recitation of the second). This procedure requires a poetic language of crystal transparency and a stability of relations between poet and public, such as existed at the time of the D̲j̲āhiliyya (D. Semah, Poetry and its audience according to medieval Arab poeticians, in IOS, xi [1991], 91-105).

On the other hand, a decidedly less important trend opts for the mysterious in poetry. For Abū Hilāl al-Ṣābī, the best poem is that in which the basis is wrapped in obscurity. This poetical obscurity constitutes the very essence of this form of discourse ( wa-afk̲h̲aru ’l-s̲h̲iʿri mā g̲h̲amuḍa fa-lam yuʿṭika g̲h̲araḍahu illā baʿda mumāṭalatin wa-ʿarḍin minka ʿalayhi “the best poetry is poetry surrounded by mystery, which yields up its intentions only after numerous tergiversations and a request that you address yourself to it” [Arazi, 498, § 2]). Prose, to be effective, needs to be immediately understood; this is why it depends on limpidity. As ¶ regards s̲h̲iʿr the obscure constitutes, according to al-Ṣābī, a necessity on the level of creative activity. Being confined within tightly-drawn limits, i.e. the verse, this discourse is constrained, as a result of fragmentation at the level of the line, to move within extremely narrow limits and to express brief thoughts which are considerably more superficial than those of letters (the critics of the period were satisified with the concept of the independent verse as a unit of composition conveying one meaning, Ibn Sallām, op. cit., i, 360-1; al-Mubarrad, al-Kāmil , 44). The kātib has at his disposal unlimited space and is not subject to any yoke hampering his freedom of expression; he can thus give to ideas an almost absolute priority. On the other hand, the poet, confined within a narrow space, that of the verse, is obliged, to avoid falling into platitude, to veer towards an excess of maʿānī ( faḍl fi ’l-maʿnā ) and the ideas expressed err on the side of exaggerated concision. The inevitable result is a certain affectedness, an expression remote from the natural and an elliptical style (Ibn al-At̲h̲īr, op. cit., ii, 415; Ibn Abi ’l-Ḥadīd, 303, 305; ʿĪd Rad̲j̲āʾ, Dirāsāt , 1979, 34; Arazi, 478). It is appropriate to stress that al-Ṣābī introduces to us a constitutive element of poetry, which characterises the most successful examples. In developing this notion of poetics, al-Ṣābī was probably thinking of the poetry of his time, that of badīʿ, which responds partially, it is true, to this aesthetic of obscurity.

Abū Ḥāzim al-Ḳarṭād̲j̲annī [q.v.], in the 7th/13th century, was perhaps the theoretician who best systematised this concept. Through a game of contrasts cleverly set in motion, he sets out to integrate limpidity of language with obscurity of modalities and of thoughts (al-Ḳarṭād̲j̲annī, 172). Numerous cases were foreseen by this theoretician (they are revealed in Arazi, 480-1). His conclusion does not fail to astonish with its modern resonance: the maʿnā must be delicate and subtle by definition; the more that thoughts err on the side of subtlety, the more the poetic phrase will need to mobilise an excess of clarity; thus is achieved a fine equilibrium where the two entities are opposed and integrated (al-Ḳarṭād̲j̲annī, 177-8). Von Grunebaum correctly observes in this context that poetic obscurity existed in poetry in mediaeval Europe and that it consisted of an extension of Aristotelianism ( Aesthetic , 328-9).

Unfortunately for Arabic poetry, the ideas of al-Ṣābī were generally misunderstood by classical critics as well as by certain modern researchers, who have seen here a call for obscurantism in poetic language (Arazi, 483-5, § 1.3.1.). Accorded a hostile reception, they seem to have played only a marginal role in poetics.

(e) Al-lafẓ wa ’l-maʿnā .

The critics were fascinated by the concrete formulation of the poetical idea. Much less clear was the question, should this formulation be considered as dependent on the treatment of the words or on the conceptual content? Since the objective of poetry is not the thing stated but the manner in which it is stated, it was in the natural order of things to establish a distinction between the two entities and to prefer lafẓ over maʿnā. Furthermore, the confinement of the maʿānī within a limited space, which was not to be overstepped, persuaded poets to concentrate all their efforts on finding the formal garment best suited to the allotted space, and it induced them to adopt the same attitude as that held by the critics. The poet exercises the highest degree of control over his material, which is language. An intangible sign of this ¶ control is the concision which is strongly recommended. Al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ played an essential role in the constitution of this conception; he was followed enthusiastically by later scholars of poetry ( al-Ḥayawān , iii. 131-2; al-ʿAskarī, Ṣināʿatayn , 58; Von Grunebaum, Aesthetic , 327; Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung , 286-7).

In the 5th/11th century, ʿAbd al-Ḳāhir al-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī was concerned to stress the negative nature of the D̲j̲āḥiẓian concept of maʿānī . First of all, the separation of lafẓ and of maʿnā seemed to him an aberration; it was hardly conceivable to separate the objective which is sought, i.e. the modalities of expression, from their projection into words. On the other hand, he challenges the notion that the literary merit of a poem emanates solely from the beauty of the terms used, conceived as preponderant units. A term cannot be faṣīḥ in itself, but only through its concurrence with the maʿānī and the harmony which it establishes between the different elements of expression. If al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ is to be followed, thoughts and their modalities will come to be excluded from the domain of eloquence and poetry will be reduced to verbal juggling, banishing the beauty of the composition ( al-naẓm ) and the quality of the texture of the poem ( al-taʾlīf ) (D̲j̲amīl Saʿd, 175-90).

It is, however, appropriate to mention the existence, at a very early stage, of an approach opposed to the supremacy of formalism. According to a work of Ibn Abī Ṭāhir Ṭayfūr (d. 280/893 [q.v.], thus a contemporary of al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ), al-Mant̲h̲ūr wa ’l-manẓūm , it is possible to state that it was the maʿānī which conferred on pre-Islamic poetry its undisputed primacy. It needs to be recalled that maʿnā is a mixed entity dependent simultaneously on style and on thought, on form and on essence and on the treatment of words and the content. This integration of lafẓ and of maʿnā is a very healthy element in poetry, since it establishes no distinction between essence and form. The Seven long [poems] ( al-sabʿ al-ṭiwāl ) possess in common a profusion of maʿānī of unrivalled beauty: fa-mina’l-s̲h̲iʿri ’l-lad̲h̲ī lā mat̲h̲īla lahu al-ḳaṣaʾidu ’l-sabʿu ’l-ṭiwālu ’l-latī ḳaddamt̲h̲ā ’l-ʿulamāʾu ʿalā sāʾiri ’l-as̲h̲ʿāri fa-inna ’l-wāḥidata minhā tas̲h̲milu ʿalā maʿānin lā mat̲h̲īla lahā “in this poetry which has no equal, the Seven long [poems] which the scholars placed above all other poems; each in fact includes numerous maʿānī, unique in their genre” (Beirut 1977, 21-2). If the poems of Imruʾ al-Ḳays, of Zuhayr, of ʿAntara, of Labīd, of ʿAmr b. Kult̲h̲ūm, of al-Ḥārit̲h̲ b. Ḥilliza and of al-Nābig̲h̲a al-D̲h̲ubyānī are counted among the pearls of Arabic poetry, it is because of the beauty of their motifs. The superiority of every poet depends on the range of the maʿānī which he has enunciated, and the grading of poets according to categories ( ṭabaḳāt ) is done in accordance with these criteria. This conception developed by al-Ḥirmāzī ( flor . in the time of al-Ras̲h̲īd, 170-93/786-809,” preceding al-D̲j̲āḥiẓ by a generation) was adopted by Ibn Ṭayfūr, Ibn D̲j̲innī and al-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī, but remained a minority and somewhat marginal view.

C. The philosophers

The influence of Aristotelian ideas on the evolution of Arabic poetics has been decisive; these have been the ideas most systematically explored by the Muslim philosophers. Unlike the theoreticians, the philosophers were concerned to clarify a complete poetic art; they conceived poetry as a universal cultural phenomenon. Their speculations possess a hitherto unknown scientific rigour, since they considered poetic discourse as a subdivision of logic. They thus deny any role in poetry to the imagination and establish ¶ incompatibility between reason and poetry (Von Grunebaum, Aesthetic, 323).

These poetics of the philosophers do not derive from a more or less accurate paraphrase of the Poetics of Aristotle. It is rather a question of commentaries expressing the personal opinions of those philosophers who took inspiration from the notions expressed in al-Muʿallim al-awwal . Three essential principles dominate the poetic art as viewed by the philosophers: truth (and falsehood), imitation and evocation.

(i) Aristotelian theory makes of poetical beauty an ornament and a generalisation of the truth. According to the philosophers, and more specifically Ibn Rus̲h̲d, the poet should evoke, with eloquence and plausibility, a chosen and average nature which is true for all times and for the greatest public, thus detaching the permanent from the ephemeral; this is called al-ḥaḳīḳa , the truth (Cantarino, 37). However, poetry is accorded the right to turn away from obligatory truth; this is the well-known poetic kad̲h̲ib which differs from its homonym as employed by the critics. The latter understood it as meaning falsehood in the literal sense. On several occasions, traditions recount very flattering anecdotes regarding the veracity of certain poets, in particular, Zuhayr; the qualities attributed to patrons in his eulogistic poems are genuine qualities. In this context, the maxim aʿd̲h̲abu ’l-s̲h̲iʿri aṣdaḳuhu “the finest of poems is the most truthful” makes its appearance. Beyond this ethical aspect (Von Grunebaum, Spirit , 46-7; Iḥsān ʿAbbās, Naḳd , 34-6) critics have questioned the exactitude of maʿānī, as in the work of al-Āmidī. In consequence, everything dependent on the impossible is bad. This attitude does not lack positive results, such as the necessity for the urban poet to employ a poetic language which accords with the milieu in which he lives and with clarity ( ibāna ) of expression (Von Grunebaum, Critic , 104).

Among the philosophers, this concept rather signifies the right accorded to poetry to turn away from objective truth. In fact, from this perspective, recognition is given to the legitimacy of poetical subjectivity, or to that of the imagination which is the cause of muḥākāt (see below). For the poet, this faculty prevails over thought, as is affirmed by al-Fārābī, Ibn Sīnā and Ibn Rus̲h̲d (al-Rūbī, 114-15, with abundant bibl.). As the imagination conceives and expresses a mimesis and a resemblance and not reality, it is a case of a kad̲h̲ib, and the best poem is that which succeeds more than others in giving the illusion of reality, in inducing belief in the veracity of this muḥākāt.

(ii) Tak̲h̲ayyul denotes the power of creating images; it is stimulated, according to Ibn Sīnā, by an emotion which arouses the poet, by respect or admiration, by sadness or gaiety ( Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr min kitāb al-S̲h̲ifaʾ ; D̲j̲awāmiʿ al-s̲h̲iʿr , 67-80). This power derives from a faculty called al-mutak̲h̲ayyila (according to al-Kindī, al-muṣawwira , for al-Fārābī, al-ḳalb ) responsible for the re-actualisation of images which have been perceived in the past. At the time of inspiration, the mutak̲h̲ayyila does not confine itself to reviving these images, it restructures them, initiates new combinations of images which did not exist in this form in reality (al-Fārābī, Ārāʾ ahl al-madīna al-faḍila , 70-2). The poet is therefore obliged to keep in mind those images stored in his memory, perhaps also the maʿānī inherent in these images and to remodel them in a new, or even divergent fashion. Ibn Sīnā adds to this the entire stylistic apparatus, such as poetic language, technical procedures, rhyme, metre and even maʿānī (Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr min kitāb al-S̲h̲ifāʾ 163). Thus conceived, tak̲h̲ayyul ultimately encompasses the whole process of creation. ¶ The Islamic philosophers ranked it above the ḳuwwa nāṭiḳa or logical force, but made it subservient to the intellect ( al-ʿaḳl ) on which it depends totally. The process of al-tak̲h̲ayyul al-s̲h̲iʿrī appears to be a kind of emanation ( fayḍ ) or of vague and imprecise inspiration ( ilhām g̲h̲āmiḍ ). Such a conception confers on poetry a status resembling that of prophecy or something close to it; both are phenomena of conscious inspiration involving subjects endowed with natural dispositions. If poetry is part of logic, the fact remains that it lies in the eighth and last position according to the classification adopted by al-Kindī and, later, by al-Fārābī (al-Rūbī, 54-6).

All visions of tak̲h̲yil , translated into language, are transformed into muḥākāt or aḳwāl muḥākiya , i.e. symbols, mimeses and enigmas. Were it not for muḥākāt, the human muk̲h̲ayyila would be incapable of operating and would remain at the stage of virtuality.

(iii) Arts such as drawing and painting are based on muḥākāt or imitation. Only poetry, among all the other arts, is a muḥākāt in the form of words. This faculty reconstructs the real into a better or worse form through the allocation of excess of beauty or of ugliness. Poetic discourse thus surpasses and transcends the real. In fact, this discourse, which is itself the fruit of muḥākāt, constitutes a subjective apprehension, since it depends on the vision which exists in the muk̲h̲ayyala of the poet. In these terms, al-Fārābī stresses, a poem does not constitute a totally identical imitation of reality, but there is a relation of resemblance.

Ibn Sīnā gives valuable particulars regarding the nature and functioning of this force; it does not operate in the case of fables and of stories set to metre and rhyme. Neither of these belongs to the category of poetry. In the versified Kalīla wa-Dimna [q.v.] and in stories or tales, all is fictitious. They cannot be classed as s̲h̲iʿr , which is concerned with things that exist or could exist. The Islamic philosophers followed the Aristotelian concept of the poet’s role as transmitter of an event which is real or which could be so. Poetry, from this point of view, is closely akin to philosophy; both aspire to express global verities.

As regards the objectives which poetry sets out to retain, beyond aesthetic pleasure which is the primary aim, it is considered a school for the improvement of the soul. It is thus essentially a didactic discourse, being more easily digested by the “common people”. It is the only means by which the latter can assimilate wisdom. Thus the ethical aspect, so highly esteemed by the puritans, is brought into play. The discourse which inflames the instincts and induces men to commit evil acts is thus denounced, and for this reason al-Fārābī reviles Arabic poetry as a school “of cupidity and mendacity”. Ibn Miskawayhi advises that young people should not be instructed in the poetry of the nasīb , since it encourages fornication; on the other hand he sees educational merit in poems which celebrate courage and manliness.

D. The first grammarians

The first grammarians showed great interest in archaic poetry. Modern scholars have insisted on stressing the primal role played by versified texts in the researches of Arab grammarians and in the development of ʿArabiyya , the classical Arabic language. Al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ḳadīm took the role of s̲h̲āhid , proof text, and thus guardian of validity, of legitimacy of usage and of quality (Blachère, HLA, i, 89-96, 111-12). H. Fleisch asserts that treatises of grammar from the 2nd/8th century to the period of the Nahḍa , in fact present the grammar of D̲j̲āhilī poetry. Classical Arabic grammar allegedly revealed, studied and codified a stage ¶ of the language, that represented by ancient poetry ( Traité de philologie arabe , i, 1961, 9-10; see also, J. Fück, ʿArabiyya, Paris 1955, 5; ʿAbd al-Ḥamīd al-S̲h̲ilkānī, al-Aʿrāb al-ruwāt , Tripoli (Libya) 1391/1982, introd., 7, 29; Ibrāhīm Anīs, Min asrār al-lug̲h̲a , Cairo 1958, 321).

Careful study of Sībawayhi’s Kitāb reveals the dominant role of the speech of Bedouin heard directly from their own mouths. Furthermore, discernible in the approach of the great grammarian is a certain reluctance to use s̲h̲iʿr to legitimise a linguistic facet (Sībawayhi, Kitāb, Paris 1881-5, 7). In § 7 of the Kitāb, he declares that the rules governing kalām differ from those governing s̲h̲iʿr; in other words, as grammar seeks to codify the rules of the language, it cannot rely on poetry. Furthermore, having quoted a verse and studied the form of expression which it initiates on the level of morphology and syntax, Sībawayhi adds wa-hād̲h̲ā lā yad̲j̲ūzu illā fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿri wa-fī ḍaʿfin mina ’l-kalām “this is only permissible in poetry and in approximative speech” (ibid., 18, 1. 3). This equivalence of poetry = approximative discourse dispenses with any commentary. This manner of regarding the poetic language derives from a broader conception of this form. This disciple of al-K̲h̲alīl b. Aḥmad seems to have had little appreciation for the very artificial figures and expressions adopted by the poetic language. When he introduces poets, he criticises them “for being ready to accept aberrant forms and figures to such a point that they use words improperly, because they are [metrically] convenient and are not vitiated by any deficiency as regards the measure” wa-yaḥtamilūna ḳabḥa ’l-kālāmi ḥattā yaḍaʿūhu fī g̲h̲ayri mawḍiʿihi li-annahu mustaḳīmun laysa fīhi naḳṣu (ibid., 9). For his part, Ḥamza al-Iṣfahānī (4th/10th century [q.v.]) also fulminates against aberrant figures and the violence done to the language by poets ( ʿasf al-lug̲h̲a ) on account of the tyrannies of form to which they are subject ( al-Tanbīh ʿalā ḥudūt̲h̲ al-taṣḥīf , Beirut 1992 [= Damascus 1968], 97-101). Later, the linguistic quest changes on account of the closure of the doors of id̲j̲tihād in grammar, and visiting the desert is seen as futile on account of the degradation of Bedouin speech. Consequently, ancient poetry is endowed with incomparable prestige in the eyes of grammarians: it is the perfect expression of good usage. In relatively late grammatical works, only the poetical s̲h̲awāhid are retained for purposes of testimony.

V. Unregulated poetry.

Unregulated is used here in the sense of unrestrained, excessive ( Grand Robert , s.v.). This is in fact the period of the fantastic, to borrow the expression of Heinrichs, in the long evolution of Arabic poetry. By means of an intensive and original usage of tropes, the poets break all logical links between the elements in a comparison; they opt for an imagery totally divorced from nature and proceed towards constructions dependent on the imaginary, in other words a fantastic creation. The later ʿAbbāsid poets show themselves consummate masters of this art. An example given by Heinrichs is the image whereby al-Ṣanawbarī compares red anemones tossed by the wind with banners made of rubies set on a background of chrysolites (Heinrichs, 26).

In order to understand the full significance of this approach, it needs to be linked to the role of the image in the poetics of al-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī. Metaphorical language, he asserts, is magic ( Asrār , 40). The image reconciles the irreconcilable, unites incompatible opposites and introduces us to a world of the bizarre, in which images are not immediately comprehended by the imagination (ibid., 140, 144, 150, 188). Evidently, ¶ what is involved here is an artificial creation, even a discourse full of affectation. There is nothing pejorative in this concept. Modern conceptions of aesthetics consider it on the contrary as an art form tending towards irrealism, refined and sophisticated, drawn to fantasy and paradox and transcending affectation and oddity; the subjects here are unashamedly fantastic, even esoteric. This important process of evolution proceeded for several centuries. Beginning in the 4th-5th/10th-11th centuries, it reached its zenith in the 6th-12th century. The centuries of affectation are characterised by an intense poetic activity directed entirely towards a single objective: what matters in poetry is literature, i.e. recourse to a formed and formalised language.

(1) The revival of established genres.

The poets of these centuries are outstanding painters. In the Ayyūbid and Mamlūk periods, descriptive poetry demonstrates an intense love of nature; the poets of Spain, of Syria and of Egypt celebrate it with enthusiasm. The countryside is transformed here into a cornucopia of colours and scents bathed in abundant water (Ibn Munīr al-Ṭarābulusī, Dīwān , Beirut 1986, 149-50, 178, the perfumes of Damascus); human arrangements, ṣihrīd̲j̲ s,, places of libation ( mad̲j̲lis ), wells, etc., are shown in the forefront of the scene (Ibn Munīr al-Ṭarābulusī, 133, § 40, 134, § 42; al-Suyūṭī, Ḥusn al-muḥāḍara , Cairo 1967, 358-63). Similarly, rivers and lakes are very often celebrated (Umayya b. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, Dīwān, Beirut 1990, 81, 85, 133, 145; Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, al-Adab fi ’l-ʿaṣr al-mamlūkī , Cairo 1971, 115-16).

This attachment to nature remains a powerful influence under the Mamlūks and the Ottomans, and the tendency to sing the praises of its more enchanting aspects becomes a regular feature among the poets of the two periods: Ibn Ẓāfir al-Ḥaddād, Ibn Ḳasīm al-Ḥamwī (d. 542/1156), al-S̲h̲ihāb al-S̲h̲āg̲h̲urī (d. 615/1218), and for the Ottomans, Ibn al-Naḳīb (d. 1081/1670, Ibn al-Naḥḥās al-Ḥalabī (d. 1052/1642) and Abu Maʿtūḳ al-Mūsawī (1087/1676) have evoked in numerous instances the beauties of Syria and, in the case of Egypt, the Nile and its verdant banks. At the same time, this taste for nature is revived by love of the soil, by literary reminiscences and the introduction of a new poetical form which wallows in nature, the muwas̲h̲s̲h̲aḥ [q.v.] of Andalusian origin. Also encountered in the texts is a sustained interest in the climate and in meteorological phenomena, rains, wintry weather (al-Suyūṭī, ii, 398), snowflakes and the cheerful nature of the spring (ibid.). Furthermore, conventional or scientific objects such as the astrolabe (Umayya b. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, 90-1, § 111), censers (ibid., 93, § 118), candles, tooth-picks ( S̲h̲ad̲h̲arāt al-d̲h̲ahab , vi, 59), etc., which could seem prosaic at first sight, are frequently evoked.

Description adopted a poetic language which was sometimes elliptical, most often enigmatic, and maʿānī which, far from revealing the object, screened it in a subtle and pleasurable manner through the adoption of procedures of affectation and fantasy. Very often, the poet gave to his description an enigmatic form by recourse to the interrogative pronoun “what-is-it-that?” ( mā ), and an allegorical language. Fityān al-S̲h̲āg̲h̲ūrī, describing the cupola of the Umayyad Mosque, transforms it into a young woman ( g̲h̲āda ) of great beauty born by a vulture (al-S̲h̲ihāb al-S̲h̲āg̲h̲ūrī, Dīwān, Damascus 1967, 245). Nothing in the poem helps the reader to penetrate the secret of this fantastic image. In these conditions, it can be understood how works of poetics under the Mamlūks insisted on ¶ tawriya [q.v.] or double-meaning, the less common interpretation being envisaged. No fewer than three works are attested by al-Ṣafadī, Ibn Ḥid̲j̲d̲j̲a and Ibn K̲h̲ātima (Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, Taʾrīk̲h̲ al-naḳd , ii, 332, 366, 369) which clearly illustrate the tendencies of this poetry.

(2) The vigour of religious poetry.

Ṣūfī poetry experienced the most ostentatious period of its history. The works of Ibn al-Fāriḍ (d. 632/1231) and of Muhyī ’l-Dīn Ibn ʿArabī (d. 638/1240) gave the impetus to a trend which was to be maintained until the Mahḍa [q.v.]. S̲h̲araf al-Dīn al-Anṣārī (d. 662/1264), al-S̲h̲ābb al-Ẓarīf (d. 688/1293), ʿAfīf al-Dīn al-Tilimsānī (690/1291), al-Ẓahīr al-Irbilī (d. 697/1302), Ibn al-Naḥḥās al-Ḥalabī (d. 1052/1642) and ʿAbd al-G̲h̲anī al-Nābulusī (d. 1142/1731) are the loyal heirs of their illustrious predecessors. In the best examples, the discourse aspires to escape from the rational. The language is allegorical and the words take on a symbolic meaning which can be penetrated only by initiates. This essentially subjective poetry transcends semantics to express that which transcends words. Here, there is no self-modelling according to the exigencies of a well-defined dogma. In a sense, the involvement here is with open texts, bearing multiple suggestions. Furthermore, the Ṣūfī poems of the period renew acquaintance with an ancestral tradition closely associated with the use of song among mystics (al-Ahwānī, Ibn Sanāʾ al-Mulk wa-mus̲h̲kilat al-ʿuḳm wa ’l-ibtikār , Cairo 1962, 197). Furthermore, no doubt influenced by the mystical poems of the Persian sāḳī-nāma , the Ṣūfī k̲h̲amriyya [q.v.] enjoys a certain vogue; numerous poems based on this pattern are attested from the 7th/13th to the 12th/18th century. Finally, it should not be forgotten that it is this period which sees the emergence and proliferation of the poems called al-madāʾiḥ al-nabawiyya or eulogies of the Prophet: generally long pieces, constructed on a binary base, the opening being reserved for the nasīb nabawī (a love-song addressed to the Prophet) which is combined with the naʿt al-nabī (portrait of the Prophet), praises and accounts of his miracles, his virtues and his fine deeds (Zakī Mubārak, al-Madāʾiḥ al-nabawiyya fi ’l-adab al-ʿarabī , Cairo 1967, index). A woman, ʿĀʾis̲h̲a al-Baʿūniyya (d. 922/1516), seems to have been particularly distinguished in this field: she devoted a special dīwān ( dīwān mustaḳill ) to this type of poem. Certain researchers see in this renewal of religious poetry an attempt to find a refuge from an unbearable reality and a reaction to the decline in status of the professional poet. Henceforward, their numbers were to contract and they were replaced by scholars, in particular, by ḳāḍī s possessing profound affinities with religious motifs (Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, Adab , 109).

Imitation and decline

During the five centuries from the 5th-10th/11th-16th, Arabic poetry ceases to be regarded exclusively as entertainment and regains a part of its ancient primacy. Circumstances favoured this development. Various campaigns and victories over the Crusaders stirred up among contemporaries, poets in particular, a great wave of enthusiasm and optimism. The victories of Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn and those of al-Ẓāhir Baybars inspired numerous poems on the part of the ḳāḍī al-Fāḍil, al-ʿImād al-Iṣfahānī, Abu ’l-Faḍl and al-D̲j̲ilyānī, who were not lacking in epic spirit (Abū S̲h̲āma, al-Rawḍatayn , Cairo 1956-62, ii, 102-18; Ibn Wāṣil, Mufarrid̲j̲ al-kurūb , Cairo 1953-60, 234 ff.; for the Baybars cycle, Ibn Tag̲h̲rī-birdī, Nud̲j̲ūm , Cairo 1929-56, xii, 322; Bās̲h̲ā, i, 530-3).

This poetry is produced by epigones; the poets of ¶ this period made imitation of the ancients and slavish adherence to established models into an institution.

New forms, the muʿāraḍa [q.v.], the tak̲h̲mīs [q.v.] and the tasmīṭ [see musammaṭ ], impose on the poet the need to introduce whole poetical phrases, ranging from the hemistich and the verse to the totality of the ḳaṣīda . The later poet becomes, at best, a commentator and his poem a continuation and elucidation of that of the model. The case of Ṣafī al-Dīn al-Ḥillī seems typical in this respect: a considerable proportion of his poems are muʿāraḍas of poems of al-Mutanabbī, or tasmīṭs of the ḳaṣīda of Ḳaṭarī b. al-Fud̲j̲āʾa, of the lāmiyya of al-Samawʾal and of the nūniyya of Ibn Zaydūn; another poem includes the Lāmiyyat al-ʿArab of al-S̲h̲arīfarā: verses by the ṣuʿlūk poet are cited textually ( taḍmīn ), separated one from another by those of the Mamlūk poet. The same procedure is attested with the maḳṣūra of Ibn Durayd, two integral poems of al-Mutanabbī and of al-Ṭug̲h̲rāʾi and the second hemistiches of the Ḥamāsa of Abū Tammām. Originally, it is quite possible that the later poets were induced to follow these procedures through their admiration for a valued heritage, or as a means of protecting and conserving it. In this regard, under the Ottomans, the poets Ibn al-Ṇakīb and Amīn al-D̲j̲undī (d. 1257/1841) proceeded in an absolutely identical fashion. Furthermore, the former, no doubt considering himself a memorialist, and still with the aim of conveying a culture, composed a poem of 119 verses entitled Ḏj̲amharat al-mug̲h̲annīn and dedicated to musicians, singers, favourites and drinking companions ( nudamāʾ ) from the Umayyads to al-Rāḍī; he also evokes here the sweetness of life among the Barmakids and the enjoyable parties given by al-Ṣāḥib Ibn ʿAbbād and al-Muhallabī. All these evocations were strewn with quotations from verses composed in earlier periods (al-Muḥibbī, K̲h̲ulāṣat al-at̲h̲ar fī aʿyān al-ḳarn al-ḥādī ʿas̲h̲ar , Cairo 1384, ii, 396-7). On reading Mamlūk and Ottoman compositions, there is no justification for speaking of decadence or of lexicographical poetry. Admittedly, since the time of the Ayyūbids there is a marked tendency among poets to engage in extravagant rhetorical games: the verses known as al-abyāt al-mus̲h̲ad̲j̲d̲j̲ara , which can be read from beginning to end, but also from end to beginning, constitute, at best, a verbal prank and a tangible sign, perhaps the only one, of undeniable mastery of the language. Finally, poets were much fewer in number, as the culture itself had contracted and was upheld only in small and isolated enclaves. Looking to a past which it sought to safeguard and deprived of any regenerative element, it perpetuated a patently outdated discourse. At this time, poetry had lost its momentum and was evidently awaiting a change—which came with the Nahḍa [q.v.].

Bibliography See also D̲j̲āḥiẓ, Bayān, Cairo 1388/1968, i, 45-50, 51-2, 93, 106, 115, 135-6, 137, 156, 274, 287-9, 308, 324, 328, 334-6, 346-7, 359, 365

idem, Ḥayawān, Cairo 1938-45, i, 74, 294, 364, ii, 59

iii, 57, 62, 131-2, 311

iv, 382

vi, 164

vii, 158

Mubarrad, ed. Von Grunebaum, Al-Mubarrad’s epistle on poetry and prose, in Orientalia, x (1941), 374-80

T̲h̲aʿlab, Ḳawāʿid al-s̲h̲iʿr, Cairo 1966, 60-82

Ibn Ḳutayba, al-S̲h̲iʿr wa l-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ, Leiden 1904, 2-35

Ibn al-Muʿtazz, Ṭabaḳāt al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ al-muḥdat̲h̲īn, Cairo 1956, 24, 204, 228-9, 241, 244, 248, 255, 266, 283-4, 286, 290, 294, 316, 339, 341, 342-3, 385-6

Ḳalāʿī, Iḥkām sanʿat al-kalām, Beirut 1986, 27-39

Ps.-Ibn al-Mudabbir, al-Risāla al-ʿad̲h̲raʾ, Cairo 1931, § xi, 19 ff.

Abū Hilāl al-ʿAskarī, K. al-Ṣināʿatayn, Cairo 1952, 29, 58, 60-1, 64-5, 131, 141, ¶ 147-59, 382

Ḳudāma b. D̲j̲aʿfar, Naḳd al-s̲h̲iʿr, Leiden 1966, 2-10, 23-32, 70-90, 100-8, 124-34

Ibn al-Anbārī, S̲h̲arḥ al-sabʿ al-ṭiwāl, Cairo 1882, 295

Rummānī et alii, T̲h̲alāt̲h̲ rasaʾil fī iʿd̲j̲āz al-Ḳurʾān, Cairo 1955

ʿAbd Rabbihi, al-ʿIḳd al-farīd, Cairo 1965, v, 269-416

ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Nahs̲h̲alī, al-Mumtiʿ fī ṣanʿat al-s̲h̲iʿr, Beirut 1983, 7-13, 18-27, 46-7, 95, 120, 173-4, 213-26, 229

Ibn Ras̲h̲īḳ al-Ḳayrawānī, al-ʿUmda fī maḥāsin al-s̲h̲iʿr wa-ādābihi wa-naḳdihi, Cairo 1934, 19-134, 182-6

Ibn Ṭabāṭabā, ʿIyār al-s̲h̲iʿr, Cairo 1956, 3-10, 14-7, 32-45, 48-75, 96-120

Aḥmad b. Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al-Marzūkī, S̲h̲arḥ dīwān al-Ḥamāsa, Cairo 1967, i, 3-20 (introd. by the author and thesis on ʿamūd al-s̲h̲iʿr)

Muḥammad b. Sinān, Sirr al-faṣāḥa, Cairo 1932, 55-60, 85-94, 103-9, 183-7, 194-5, 206-7, 209-11, 256-7, 261-73

Ḥāzim al-Ḳarṭād̲j̲annī, Minhād̲j̲ al-bulag̲h̲āʾ wa-sirād̲j̲ al-udabāʾ, Tunis 1966

ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAbd al-Ḳāhir al-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī, Asrār al-balāg̲h̲āʾ, Istanbul 1954, 80, 241-2, 244, 250, 315-6

Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. al-Ṭayyib al-Bāḳillānī, Iʿd̲j̲āz al-Ḳurʾān, Cairo 1935

Ibn al-At̲h̲īr, al-Mat̲h̲al al-sāʾir fī adab al-kātib wa-l-s̲h̲āʿir, Cairo 1939, i, 3-71, 310-54, ii, 215-34

idem, al-Ḏj̲āmiʿ al-kabīr fī ṣināʿat al-manẓūm min al-kalām al-mant̲h̲ūr, Bag̲h̲dād 1956, 49, 59-63, 106

Ibn Abi ’l-Ḥadīd, al-Falak al-dāʾir ʿalā al-mat̲h̲al al-sāʾir, Cairo 1963

al-Muẓaffar b. al-Faḍl al-ʿAlawī, Naḍrat al-ig̲h̲rīḍ fī nuṣrat al-ḳarīḍ, Damascus 1976, 7-11, 17, 26, 162-4, 233-49, 275, 293-98, 303-11, 347, 350, 352-7, 363-76, 390-9, 422-3, 448, 453

Ibn K̲h̲aldūn, al-Muḳaddima, ed. Quatremère, iii, 327-62 = Prolégomènes, tr. de Slane, Paris 1868, iii, 365-403

Ibn Abi ’l-Iṣbaʿ al-Miṣrī, Taḥrīr al-taḥbīr, Cairo 1383

Yaḥyā b. Ḥamza al-ʿAlawī, K. al-Ṭirāẓ al-mutaḍammin li-asrār al-balāg̲h̲a, Cairo 1914, 78-79, 597-8

Nawād̲j̲ī, Mukaddima fī ṣināʿat al-naẓm wa ʾl-nat̲h̲r, Beirut n.d.

G.E. von Grunebaunij Zur Chronologie der früharabischen Dichtung, in Orientalia, viii (1938), 328-45

idem, Arabic literary criticism in the tenth century, in JAOS, li (1941), 51-7

idem, The concept of plagiarism in Arabic theory, in JNES, iii (1944), 234-53

idem, Growth and structure of Arabic poetry A.D. 500-1000, in N.A. Faris, The Arab heritage, Princeton 1944, 121-41

idem, Arabic literary criticism in the 10th century A.D., in JNES, iv (1945), 48-54

idem, The (æsthetic foundations in Arabic literature, in Comparative Literature, iv/4 (1952), 323-40

idem, The spirit of Islam as shown in its literature, in SI, i (1953), 101-19

M. Gaudefroy-Demombynes, Introduction au livre de la poésie et des poètes d’Ibn Ḳutayba, Paris 1947

R. Park, “And Heard Great Argument”, an essay in the practical criticism of Arabic poetry, in JAL, (1970), 49-70

W. Heinrichs, Arabische Dichtung und Griechische Poetik, Beirut 1969

idem, Literary theory: the problem of its efficiency, in Arabic poetry theory and development, Wiesbaden 1973, 23-53

S.A. Bonebakker, Poets and critics in the third century A.H., in ibid., 88-95

idem, Some early definitions of the Tawriya and Ṣafadī’s Faḍḍ al-Khitām ʿan al-Tawriya wa-l-Istikhdām, The Hague-Paris 1966

idem, Materials for the history of Arabic rhetoric from the Ḥilyat al-muḥāḍara of Ḥātimī, Suppl. no. 4 to Annali, xxxv/3 (1975), 36-7

J.T. Monroe, Hispano-Arabic poetry during the caliphate of Cordóba, poetry, theory and development, Wiesbaden 1973, 125-54

J.Ch. Bürgel, Die beste Dichtung ist die Lügenreichste, in Oriens, xxiii-xxiv, 7-102

J. Bencheikh, Poétique arabe: essai sur les voies d’une création, Paris 1975

V. Cantarino, Arabie poetics in the Golden Age. Selection of texts accompanied by a preliminary study, Leiden 1975, 1-98

G.H. Van Gelder, Critic and craftsman: al-Ḳarṭājannī and the structure ¶ of the poem, in JAL, x (1979), 26-84

idem, The poet as body builder

on a passage from al-Ḥātimī’s Ḥilyat al-Muḥāḍara, in JAL, xiii (1982), 58-65

S.P. Stetkevych, Toward redefinition of Badīʿ poetry, in JAL, xii (1981), 1-29

idem, Abū Tammām and the poetics of the ʿAbbāsid age, Leiden 1991

Abdulla el Tayib, Pre-Islamic poetry, in The Cambridge history of Arabic literature, i, Arabic literature to the end of the Umayyad period, Cambridge 1983, 27-38

Salma K. Jayyusi, Umayyad poetry, in ibid., 387-427

M. Ajami, The neckveins of winter

the controversy over natural and artificial poetry in medieval Arabic literary criticism, Leiden 1984

J.E. Montgomery, Dichotomy in Jāhilī poetry, in JAL, xvii (1986), 1-20

Adonis, Introduction à la poétique arabe, Paris 1985 (essential)

A. Arazi, Une épître d’lbrāhīm b. Hilāl al-Ṣābī sur les genres littéraires, in Studies in Islamic history and civilization in honour of Professor David Ayalon, Jerusalem-Leiden 1986, 473-506

Y. Abu ’l-ʿAddus, Rhetorical criticism in al-Jāḥiẓ’s al-Bayān wa-l-tabyīn and al-Ḥayawān, in IC, lxi/1 “(1987), 59-78

S. Kemal, Philosophy and theory, in Arabic poetics, in JAL, xx (1989), 128-48

S. Sperl, Mannerism in Arabic poetry, Cambridge 1989

M. Badawī, ʿAbbāsid poetry and its antecedents, in CHAL, ii/1, Cambridge 1990, 146-66

K. Abu Deeb, Literary criticism, in ibid., 339-87 (main tendencies; classification of poets; badīʿ; criticism and Ḳurʾānic studies; the work of 5 theoricians)

S. Kemal, The poetics of Alfarabī and Avicenna, Leiden 1991

J. Sadan, Maidens’ hair and starry skies: imagery system and maʿānī guide, in IOS, xi (1991), § 1, 57-67 (important for the opposition al-lafẓ and al-maʿnā)

Ṣalāḥ ʿAbd al-Ṣabūr, Kirāʾa d̲j̲adīda li-s̲h̲iʿrinā al-ḳadīm 3 Beirut 1982, 3-28

S̲h̲awḳī Ḍayf, al-Fann wa-mad̲h̲āhibuhu fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿarabī, Cairo 1943

Rose G̲h̲urayyib, al-Naḳd al-d̲j̲amālī wa-at̲h̲aruhu fi ’l-naḳd al-ʿarabī, Beirut 1952

Ibrāhīm Salāma, Balāg̲h̲at Arisṭū bayn al-ʿArab wa ’l-Yūnān, Cairo 1952

Muḥammad Zag̲h̲lūl Sallām, Āt̲h̲ār al-Ḳurʾān fī taṭawwur al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿarabī, Cairo 1952, 245-56

idem, Taʾrīk̲h̲ al-naḳd al-ʿarabī, i, Ilā al-ḳarn al-rābiʿ al-hid̲j̲rī, Cairo 1964

ii, Min al-ḳarn al-k̲h̲āmis ilā al-ʿās̲h̲ir al-hid̲j̲rī, Cairo n.d.

Yaḥyā al-D̲j̲ubūrī, al-Islām wa ’l-s̲h̲iʿr, Bag̲h̲dād 1964

Maḥmūd al-Ribdāwī, al-Ḥaraka al-naḳdiyya ḥawl mad̲h̲hab Abī Tammām, Beirut 1967

Muḥammad Raḍwān al-Dāya, Taʾrīk̲h̲ al-naḳd al-adabī fi ’l-Andalus, Beirut 1968

Yūsuf Ḥusayn Bakkār, al-Nās̲h̲iʾ al-Akbar nāḳid an, in al-Adīb, Beirut (1974), 22-6

Rad̲j̲āʾ ʿĪd, Dirāsat fī lug̲h̲at al-s̲h̲iʿr, ruʾya naḳdiyya, Alexandria 1979

D̲j̲amīl Saʿd, Ibn Ḏj̲innī wa ’l-D̲j̲urd̲j̲ānī fī difaʿihimā ʿan al-maʿnā, in Mad̲j̲allat al-Mad̲j̲maʿ al-ʿIlmī al-ʿIrāḳī (1980), 175-90

D̲j̲awād ʿAlī, al-Mufaṣṣal fī taʾrīk̲h̲ al-ʿArab ḳabl al-Islām, 1993, ix, 908 pp., consacrated to the question

Hilāl Nād̲j̲ī, Dīwān al-Nās̲h̲iʾ al-Akbar, in al-Mawrid, xi/1 (1982), 89-104

xi/2, 61-78

Ilfat Kamāl al-Rūbī, Naẓariyyat al-s̲h̲iʿr ʿind al-falāsifa al-muslimīn min al-Kindī ḥattā Ibn Rus̲h̲d, Beirut 1983

Hind Ḥusayn Ṭāha, al-S̲h̲uʿarāʾ wa-naḳd al-s̲h̲iʿr, Bag̲h̲dād 1986

Iḥsān ʿAbbās, Taʾrīk̲h̲ al-naḳd ʿind al-ʿArab min al-ḳarn al-t̲h̲ānī ḥattā al-ḳarn al-t̲h̲āmin al-hid̲j̲rī, ʿAmmān 1986

idem, Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr, ʿAmmān 1987

ʿAdnān ʿUbayd al-ʿAlī, Bis̲h̲r b. al-Muʿtamir s̲h̲iʿruhu wa-ṣaḥīfatuhu al-balāg̲h̲iyya, in RIMA, xxxi/2 (1987), study on the ṣaḥīfa, 523-8 (article = 503-28)

ʿUmar Mūsā Bās̲h̲ā, Taʾrīk̲h̲ al-adab al-ʿArabī, i, ʿUṣūr al-Zankiyyīn wa ’l-Ayyūbiyyīn wa ’l-Mamālīk

ii, al-ʿAṣr al-Mamlūkī

iii, al-ʿAṣr al-ʿUt̲h̲mānī, Beirut Damascus 1989.

(A. Arazi)

(b) The modern period.

The science of literature ( ʿilm al-adab ) among the Arabs is defined as “the systematic science of literature that deals with language in the form of poetry ¶ and prose from the point of view of purity of language and rhetoric” (Cheikho, ʿIlm al-adab ). The Arabic language is considered by the Arabs as the most “poetic language” ( al-lug̲h̲a al-s̲h̲āʿira ) created by God, a language whose characteristics distinguish it from other languages. As the language of the Holy Ḳurʾān, Arabic acquired an aura of sanctity, stability and eternity. Thus the poetics of Arabic language should conform to the language of the Ḳurʾān and address itself to serious subjects. As such, a fundamental difference exists between Arabic and European poetics. The European understanding of poetics as a systematic science of literature, as art, as communication, as an expression of culture in history and as a personal creation, was a concept which was not rediscovered by Arab poets until the 20th century.

In fact, throughout the history of Arabic literature there are clear-cut definitions of poetry and prose, distinguishing one from the other, so as not to allow prose to be confused with poetry, though the former may have rhyme, rhythm, metaphor or any other poetical technique except metre and the intention to write poetry. The revolt against conventional Arabic metres reflected a problem with a long-disputed course of development. Although poetry has in the recent years lost its prominence, nevertheless the problem of the rigid rules of Arabic metre which started at the beginning of the 20th century is still going on.

Poetry written in literary Arabic is considered among the Arabs as the most venerated and most sublime literary trend of Arabic literature. Hence colloquial poetry was excluded as a literary genre. During the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, under the impact of the West, some Arab poets tried to introduce new poetic diction, metaphors, themes and to find new forms and music which suited them, in order to be able to avoid what they considered the enslaving style, monometre and monorhyme, and the sonorous and declamatory tone of the classical Arab poetry.

Arab poets noticed that the most distinctive features in European poetry when compared with Arabic are the dramatic, narrative and epic poetry, which use stanzaic form and blank verse, while the most prominent trend in Arabic poetry is confined to the lyrical monorhymed ode ( ḳaṣīda [q.v.]). However, most of the Arab poets, mainly the neo-classicists of the second half of the 19th century, who were convinced of the richness of their language, agreed that rhyme is essential in Arabic poetry. It provides a musical effect and adds melody through the harmony of sound; it proves the ability of the poet and attracts attention; it adds dignity and helps in memorising the sequence of lines; it divides the poem into equal and parallel verses; it raises and satisfies the expectation of the listener; and it helps to make the verse more memorable and binds the lines together with one common bond.

The neo-classical trend emerged in an epoch when poets were still using the diction, style and poetic forms of the stagnation period in which the dominant social trend of poetry recorded happy and sad occasions, was composed with emphasis upon form and verbal play on words, spurious embellishment, paronomasia ( tad̲j̲nīs ), plagiarism, alliterations, antithesis and different types of parallelism (synonymous, antithetical and climactic). Various types of pun were also used, with an emphasis upon form, such as verses in which all the words are without diacritical marks. Alternately, one word may bear the diacritical marks while the other words remain unmarked. It was also prevalent to use tas̲h̲ṭīr , i.e. to add to each verse of ¶ a well-known poem a second hemistich to its first hemistich and a first hemistich to the second one, padding its meaning and extending it. Many such poems end with a verse denoting the year of the event according to the numerical value ( ḥisāb al-d̲j̲ummal [q.v.]) of the alphabetic letters of the last hemistich or verse. These forms in which the poet tries to show his wit and his ability to draw on the supply of classical methods stored in his memory, inventing new puns or tricks, transformed Arabic poetry into pseudoclassical poetry, into an intellectual game and an intelligent form of frivolous entertainment admired by the élite.

During the second half of the 19th century, a new generation of poets influenced by European poetry, strove to revive the classical ḳaṣīda , its form, diction, metaphors and themes, after its decline to low levels of weak and pseudo-classical verse mentioned above. The revival of the conventional Arab ode by neoclassical poets began in Egypt and the Arab world when the revival of the Arab-Islamic heritage was considered the best response to the foreign, hostile and invading Christian European culture. The neoclassical trend began with Arab poets such as Nāṣīf al-Yāzid̲j̲ī (d. 1871 [q.v.]) in Lebanon and Maḥmūd Sāmī al-Bārūdī (d. 1914 [q.v.]) in Egypt. The form of the ḳaṣīda ideally suited the poets who served the ruling courts, high government officials, influential families, the Arab national and social movements and the religious revival.

Although European literary critic theories began to show their initial influence, yet the conventional definition of poetry was the dominant one among Arab scholars and prosodists. Conservative poets and writers still dealt with the usual themes such as madīḥ (panegyric), rit̲h̲āʾ (elegy), g̲h̲azal (erotic poetry), wasf (description), tahānī (congratulation) and served rulers and influential personalities. In this neo-classical Arabic literature, Arab poets revived the rhetoric and declamatory style and the religious and fatalistic spirit of classical poetry. The new poetics sought to emulate the conventions and the basic canons of poetics through muʿāraḍa [q.v.] (imitation of an excellent classical poem using the same metre, rhyme and theme with the intention of surpassing it). This trend of platform poetry developed not only to serve rulers, religious and national revivals but also to emphasise national ideas by recalling the glorious and profound classical heritage.

When the Ottoman consul-general in Bordeaux, Rūḥī al-K̲h̲ālidī [q.v.] compared the ʿilm al-adab among the Arabs and the Europeans, he said in his monumental Taʾrīk̲h̲ ʿilm al-adab that European writers claim that Arab poets were interested in word-juggling and artificial embellishment with and without diacritical dots and in rhetorical devices, yet with no thought or fictional imagery. Moreover, these European writers say that the maḳāmāt [q.v.] deal with deception, with erotic subjects directed towards males and with perverted love. To these accusations, they add that when great Arab poets and writers deal with deep thoughts, they express them in an artificial and difficult language (2nd ed., 71-2).

Yet the neo-classical poets were proud to achieve the purity of diction, strength of texture, polished language, aristocratic tone, rhetorical devices considered as making up the only perfect and sublime poetry, expressive of the collective conscience and aesthetics of their religion and culture. Any other form or style was considered inferior or unsuitable for the “serious” subjects of traditional poetry. The neo-classical poets’ ¶ identity and confidence in their culture were not shaken. They saw their achievement as a step toward the restoration of the magnificent Arabic heritage and its glorious past, and precisely for this reason, any attack upon neo-classical poetry by modernist Arab critics and poets was considered as an attack on Islam.

Modernist critics and poets sought to formulate new poetic theories by combining Arabic conventional poetics with modern European theories. Even in 1949, after the rise of three romantic schools in Arabic poetry, al-Rābiṭa (1920-31) in the USA, al-Dīwān (1921), and Apollo (1932-4) in Egypt and their new theories of poetics, the Egyptian critic al-K̲h̲afad̲j̲ī in his Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr (“The poetic art”) defined Arabic poetry as “speech versified according to the Arabic metres, with the intention of using metre, expressing sense and using rhyme”. Earlier, numerous definitions were attempted, which the Lebanese-American romantic poet, writer and critic Mīk̲h̲āʾīl Nuʿayma [q.v.] considered to be dull and inaccurate. Influenced by Russian poetics, especially by the critic V.G. Belinski (1811-48), he cautioned that, in addition to metre, rhyme, emotion and imagination, poetry should communicate pantheistic and metaphysical sensitivity. Such critics maintained that poetry, as established in classical Arabic literature, is the most artistic of all literary genres. Poetry employs language in a particular manner: it makes use of alliteration and onomatopoeia, and it is far more tolerant of metaphors and symbols than prose.

The new vision of the modernists rebelled against the neo-classical platform orator poet, in short, the elegant poet whose ambition was to become a poetlaureate on the pay-roll of the ruler or of the Muslim religious endowments ( awḳāf ). Modernists, in contrast, demanded from the poet independence in the humanist European tradition. The poet was now freed to depict his own life, emotions and thoughts as the subjects of his compositions. Unfortunately these poets and critics derived their deals haphazardly from heterogenous European critical, scientific and philosophical theories, showing an indiscriminate fascination with all Western products in the context of their desperate quest for a theory of contemporary poetics that would explain the dichotomy between word and meaning, form and content.

The pioneer modernists calculated that, by adopting the forms and themes of Western poetry, a revolution in Arabic literature and a general change in the spirit of Arabic culture and poetry would ensue. Their objective was to attack the major neo-classical poets and establish their own new poetic movement. This struggle came to be known as the struggle between the old and the new ( al-ṣirāʿ bayn al-ḳadīm wa ’l-d̲j̲adīd ). This resulted in the romantic trend in modern Arabic poetry, involving a vehement struggle on the part of the poet for freedom to express his own ideas and emotions and his own personal experience. In effect, the modernists denounced the neoclassical blind imitation of classical themes, such as the yearning for the place of the beloved, or the lamenting over the ruins of encampments, experiences which they had never themselves known.

Only during the second half of the 20th century, after the split in Arabic poetry into two distinct trends, have Arab poets and critics succeeded in formulating a completely new conception of Arabic poetics. Poetry is no longer defined in terms of its form, i.e. as speech in metre and rhyme. Rather, the evaluation is based on the poem’s expressive value and its organic unity. The following themes have come to assume paramount ¶ importance: humanistic trends, optimistic, psychological and rational undercurrents, and universal experience. The emphasis is now on thematic content; poetry becomes a vehicle for narrative, dramatic, epic and lyrical trends, and form is secondary. Form was liberated, into free verse ( s̲h̲iʿr ḥurr ) in the sense of versirrégulier or the Cowleyan ode; blank verse ( s̲h̲iʿr mursal ), employing conventional Arabic feet in unrhymed verses, or rhymeless verses of irregular number of feet; in poetic prose ( s̲h̲iʿr mant̲h̲ūr ), using the music of thought based upon repetition and parallelism; and even the prose poem ( ḳaṣīdat al-nat̲h̲r ) advocated by Adonis (ʿAlī Aḥmad Saʿīd) in accordance with the French poème en prose .

For the Romantic Arab poets and critics, contrary to the classical view, the first criterion of poetic excellence is that poetry should contain human values and not only embellished language.

After the Second World War, the social-realistic trend in modern Arabic literature replaced the romantic trend. The poets of this trend acquired a common ideology and employed similar artistic techniques and diction, forming a literary school in the proper sense of the word. This school insisted on utilitarian values and practiced engaged or purposive literature. They formed an ideology consisting of a blend of socialism and existentialism, describing their new brand of literature as “realistic, optimistic and constructive literature”. Committed literature was viewed by its practitioners as a revolt against romantic poetics, which they dismissed as emotional, metaphorical, pessimistic and destructive.

With the gradual decline of social, political, patriotic, national and descriptive trends in Arabic poetry during the mid-20th century and the success of the Romantic Arab poets in achieving harmony between form and content, a new trend arose. This was led by the S̲h̲iʿr (“Poetry”) magazine, established in Beirut in 1957 by Yūsuf al-K̲h̲āl and its theoretician the Syro-Lebanese poet Adonis. The group of poets who edited and supported the magazine dealt with the question of the dichotomy between the literary and colloquial Arabic, and gave it precedence over the question of words and meaning. They believed that language in poetry is not a means of expression but of creation. For the S̲h̲iʿr group, words were expected to suggest and inspire rather than express. In addition, the new poetry was to have a dominant metaphysical tendency; it should strive to go beneath the surface level to the deeper reality of the universe.

The argument of the new trend of post-modern poets is that political events cannot be the object of poetic inspiration but only of prosaic forms of literature. To love beauty teaches people to rebel against oppression; as such, didactic and socio-political poetry are superfluous. Poetry should reflect the personality, mentality and psychological mood of the poet, a particular self-image and a unique inner life. On the other hand, those who defend the obligation of the poet to his society are the proponents of a national literature which expresses itself in the social-realistic trend.

The post-modern poets maintain that their new poetry has outgrown the conventional themes and rules, just as the modern age has superseded preceding ages. Poetry, they argue, is an expression of a poetic experience which should not be confined to the personal emotions. Conventional poetry recorded events and emotions, but did not go beyond them. Modern poetry is less limited, since it attempts to reveal the essence of life and not merely to be moved by it. It assumes a more positive stand. The essence ¶ of modern poetry is creative and evolutionary thought, not precise description. It is a comprehensive realisation of the Arab existence, a call to give expression to life’s deepest meaning. It stems from a metaphysical sensitivity, which does not feel things according to their essence, but is a quality which only the imagination can reach. This quality allows modern poetry to break the chains of time, events, reality and predetermined ideas. It is not a reflection of something, but a conquest revelation of a new world. The search in a poem is not for images, but for a poetic universe and for connections with the human being and his situation.

With the flexible form of Arabic free verse and poème en prose of the new trends of Arabic poetry, the modernisation of Arabic poetics was completed. This new poetry was influenced by classical Arabic poetry as well as by Western thinkers and critics from Plato and Aristotle to Rousseau, Darwin, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Renan, Sainte-Beuve, Auguste Comte, Bergson, Coleridge, Hazlitt, Sartre and Camus, as well as European and American poets from Shakespeare, Baudelaire, Eluard, Poe, Eliot, Blake, Byron, Shelley, Wordsworth and Whitman to Pasternak.

The influence of these thinkers and poets has gone beyond changing the form and content of modern Arabic poetry; they have also enabled Arabs to understand better their classical heritage. This point has been discussed by the defender of the poetics of Arab modernity, Adonis, who has admitted that “I did not discover this modernity in Arabic poetry from within the prevailing Arab cultural order and its systems of knowledge. It was reading Baudelaire which changed my understanding of Abū Nuwās and revealed his particular poetical quality and modernity, and [it was] Mallarmé’s work which explained to me the mysteries of Abū Tammām’s poetic language and the modern dimension in it. My reading of Rimbaud, Nerval and Breton led me to discover the poetry of the mystical writers in all its uniqueness and splendour, and the new French criticism gave me an indication of the newness of al-Jurjānī’s critical vision. I find no paradox in declaring that it was recent Western modernity which led me to discover our own, older, modernity outside our ‘modern’ politico-cultural system established on a Western model” (Adonis, An introduction to Arab poetics, 81).

As in the case with Western literature, modern Arabic poets use mythology, religious symbols, Greek and Eastern legends as well as Christian, Muslim and Hebraic symbols to communicate their new poetic vision. These symbols are employed even by practising Muslim poets and by formerly active Communists, who in this respect follow Boris Pasternak and other Russian poets. Eastern, and especially Syro-Phoenician, Babylonian and ancient Egyptian mythology and gods, have returned to the East through Western poetry.

These religious and mythological symbols are used in modern Arabic poetry not as expressions of religious experience, but in order to convey mental and physical states. Their main purpose is to communicate the psychological mood of the poet, who feels persecuted and alienated from his politically suppressive society. His efforts to reform his society and country are futile because of the military or semi-military régimes dominant in Arab countries. In this pessimistic context, most of the symbols used are tragic ones. Christ is the favourite symbol of the poet who sacrifices himself for his country and people. Other symbols connected with the Crucifixion are also used, such as Christ bearing the Cross, an image denoting ¶ the long path of suffering through which the poet has to pass.

Already in 1965, these symbols provoked tremendous objections by official and the growing conservative circles in the Arab world who announced that their duty was to guard the sacred and stable values of Muslim society. They argued that the destruction started by the new trends has encroached upon the Arabic language itself. Poetry, the art and glory of choice language, have a strong connection with the national spirit. Moreover, they have accused modern poetics of allowing corrupting foreign elements to penetrate the Arab existence. Among these alien elements, they have warned, is the practice of incorporating ideas and symbols derived from non-Muslim religions. Some of these ideas had already been rejected by Islam, such as Original Sin, the Crucifixion and Redemption. Moreover, the poets have used the word ilāh “deity” in its original pagan sense. These attacks by official circles in the Arab world represent a serious blow and a severe setback to Arabic thought. These conservative arguments preceded the assassination of the Egyptian thinker Dr. Farad̲j̲ Fūda, the attempt by Muslim fundamentalists in Egypt on the life of the Nobel Prize laureate of literature, Nad̲j̲īb Maḥfūẓ in 1994, and the threat to assassinate the writer, thinker and philosopher Anīs Manṣūr. On the other hand, poets such as Nizār Ḳabbānī and Maḥmūd Darwīs̲h̲ remained rather conservative in their political attitudes and in their use of metaphor and religious symbols.

Bibliography Mārūn ʿAbbūd, Mud̲j̲addidūn wa-mud̲j̲tarrūn, Beirut 1961

Adonis [ʿAlī Aḥmad Saʿīd], An introduction to Arab poetics, London 1990

idem, al-T̲h̲ābit wa ’l-mutaḥawwil, i-v, Beirut 1974-

Iḥsān ʿAbbās, ʿAbd al-Wahhāb al-Bayyātī wa ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿIrāḳī al-ḥadīt̲h̲, Beirut 1955

idem, Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr, Beirut 1955

A.M. al-ʿAḳḳād et al., al-Dīwān, kitāb fi ’l-naḳd wa ’l-adab yatimmu fī ʿas̲h̲arat ad̲j̲zāʾ, i-ii, Cairo 1921

idem, S̲h̲uʿarāʾ Miṣr wa-bīʾātuhum fi ’l-d̲j̲īl al-māḍī, 2Cairo 1950

idem, al-Lug̲h̲a al-s̲h̲āʿira, Cairo 1960 (Eng. tr. Louis Morcos, The poetical language: its qualities of art and expression, Cairo 1961)

ʿIzz al-Dīn al-Amīn, Naẓariyyat al-fann al-mutad̲j̲addid wa-taṭbīḳuhā ʿalā ’l-s̲h̲iʿr, Cairo 1964

Ibrāhīm Anīs, Mūsīḳā al-s̲h̲iʿr, 2Cairo 1952

S̲h̲ukrī ʿAyyād, Mūsīḳā al-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿArabī, Cairo 1968

M.M. Badawi, A critical introduction to modern Arabic poetry, Cambridge 1975

ʿAlī Aḥmad Bākat̲h̲īr, Muḥāḍarāt fī fann al-masraḥiyya min k̲h̲ilāl tad̲j̲āribī al-s̲h̲ak̲h̲ṣiyya, [Cairo] 1958

al-Bayyātī, Tad̲j̲ribatī al-s̲h̲ak̲h̲ṣiyya, Beirut 1969

J. Brugman, An introduction to the history of modern Arabic literature in Egypt, Leiden 1984

Bullāṭa, al-Rūmānṭīḳiyya wamaʿālimuhā bi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿArabī al-ḥadīt̲h̲, Beirut 1960

S. al-Bustānī (tr.), Ilyād̲h̲at Hūmīrūs ..., Cairo 1904

Cheikho, ʿIlm al-adab, 7Beirut 1914

Y.A. Dāg̲h̲ir, Maṣādir al-dirāsa al-adabiyya, ii/1-3, Beirut 1956-80

S̲h̲afīḳ D̲j̲abrī, Anā wa ’l-s̲h̲iʿr, Cairo 1959

ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz al-Dasūḳī, D̲j̲amāʿat Apūllū wa-at̲h̲aruhā fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ḥadīt̲h̲, Cairo 1960

S̲h̲awḳī Ḍayf, Dirāsāt fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ʿArabī al-muʿāṣir, 2Cairo 1959

Māhir Ḥasan Fahmī, Ḥarakāt al-baʿt̲h̲ fi ’l-s̲h̲iʿr al-ḥadīt̲h̲, Cairo 1961

ʿIzz al-Dīn Ismāʿīl, al-S̲h̲iʿr al-ʿArabī al-muʿāṣir, Cairo 1967

Yūsuf ʿIzz al-Dīn, al-S̲h̲iʿr al-ʿIrāḳī al-ḥadīt̲h̲, Bag̲h̲dād 1960

D̲j̲abrā I. D̲j̲abrā, al-Ḥurriyya wa ’l-ṭūfān, Beirut 1958

S.Kh. Jayyusi, Trends and movements in modern Arabic poetry, Leiden 1977

S. Moreh, Modern Arabic poetry 1800-1970, the development of its forms and themes under the influence of Western literature, Leiden 1976

idem, Studies in modern Arabic prose and poetry, Leiden 1988

Moreh and M. Milson (eds.), ¶ Modern Arabic literature. A research bibliography 1800-1980, Jerusalem 1993

ʿAbd ʿAzīz al-Nuʿmānī, Fann al-s̲h̲iʿr bayn al-turāt̲h̲ wa ’l-ḥadāt̲h̲a, n.p. 1991

M. al-Nuwayḥī, Ḳaḍiyyat al-s̲h̲iʿr al-d̲j̲adīd, Cairo 1964

M. Peled, Aspects of modern Arabic literature, Louvain 1988

R.C. Ostie (ed.), Colloquium on modern Arabic literature, London 1974

D. Semah, Four Egyptian literary critics, Leiden 1974

ʿIrfān S̲h̲ahīd, al-ʿAwda ilā S̲h̲awḳī aw-baʿda k̲h̲amsīn ʿām an, Beirut 1986

G̲h̲ālī S̲h̲ukrī, S̲h̲iʿrunā al-ḥadīt̲h̲ ilā ayna?, Cairo 1968.

(S. Moreh)

2. In Persian.

In the introduction to Miʿyār al-as̲h̲ʿār , a Persian textbook of prosody written in 649/1251-2, and ascribed to Naṣīr al-Dīn Ṭūsī [q.v.], s̲h̲iʿr is said to be “imitative and measured speech” ( kalām -i muk̲h̲ayyal -i mawzūn ), according to the logicians, or speech “with measure and rhyme” ( mawzūn-i muḳaffa ) in popular usage. These definitions, which refer to the Aristotelian mimesis as well as to the basic prosodical features, express a conformity to a concept of poetry commonly held in traditional Islamic civilisation. This is rooted in the paradigmatic role assigned since early Islam to Arabic poetry and the formal rules governing that poetry. Persian classical poetry, the beginnings of which can be traced back to the 3rd/9th century, is the oldest example of the adaptation of an indigenous poetic tradition to the Arabic standards. Although several fragments of Persian poems, dating back as far as the 1st century A.H., are on record, until the 3rd century all lack the characteristics of metre and rhyme marking classical poems. They are remnants from the pre-Islamic poetry of Persia, which was almost exclusively an oral art. The prosody of that tradition is still imperfectly understood, but it was undoubtedly very different from the classical standards, especially because of the absence of quantitative metres and regular rhyme. Persian critics of the Middle Ages refused to recognise anything as poetry that was not written according to these standards. S̲h̲ams-i Ḳays [q.v.] went as far as to state that prosody was in all its aspects an invention of the Arabs to which the Persians had added nothing new ( Muʿd̲j̲am , 68).

In modern times, the Indian scholar U.M. Daudpota still put much emphasis on the virtual identity of the two traditions. However, Hellmut Ritter, examining the aesthetic function of imagery in the poetry of Niẓāmī, found a fundamental difference in the prevalence of explicit poetic comparisons in Arabic poetry on the one hand, and a Persian preference for metaphorical expression on the other ( Bildersprache , 13-21; see also Geheimnisse , 1*f.) This immediate and flexible use of imagery provided Persian poetry with a manneristic idiom which for centuries dominated the literary language, both in poetry and in prose. Benedikt Reinert has clarified the complex relationship between Arabic and Persian poetry by pointing out that there was in fact an interplay of literary influences from both sides. The ʿIrāḳī phase in the history of Arabic poetry, when the muḥdat̲h̲ūn [q.v.] poets introduced rhetorical innovations and new genres into the tradition inherited from the D̲j̲āhiliyya, was the immediate ancestor of Persian poetry, but was itself influenced by Middle Persian forms of poetry. Features favoured in particular by the Persian poets were, among others, the use of the radīf rhyme, a strict application of the quantitative principle in Persian metrics, a different structure of poetical comparisons, an excessive use of hyperbole, the introduction of the heroic and didactic genres and the description of nature as a theme for the nasīb ( Probleme , see esp. 72-82).¶

Writers on various aspects of literature have left statements about the values attached to poetry in Persian culture. Kay Kāwūs [q.v.], the author of the oldest Persian Mirror for Princes, classified poetry among the intellectual pursuits, warning at the same time against difficult poetry which would be in need of a commentary and could therefore fail to speak directly to those for whom it was written ( Ḳābūs-nāma , 187). Being concerned in particular with the usefulness of poetry to a ruler, Niẓāmī ʿArūḍī [q.v.] pointed to the catharsis which could be effected by poetry, for instance in politics, as well as to the publicity value which provided one of the most important justifications for traditional court poetry. In rhetorical textbooks, the practical advantage of a critical knowledge of poetry was emphasised for any one who was concerned with composition, including especially official scribes, because the stylistic convention prescribed the embellishment of prose by means of poetic insertions.

More fundamental are the attempts to establish the metaphysical status of poetry by emphasising its connection with human speech and logic. Such considerations are to be found as more or less obligatory introductions to anthologies, e.g. of ʿAwfī’s Lubāb al-albāb and Dawlats̲h̲āh’s Tad̲h̲kirat al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ Speech ( suk̲h̲an ) constitutes God’s special gift to mankind, by which the human species is distinguished from all other living beings. On account of its privileged relationship to the capacity of speech, the writing of poetry belongs to the highest pursuits of the soul. Poets also frequently express their views on this particular aspect of their art. Passages on the relationship between speech, or logic, and poetry have found their place among the subjects treated in the introductions of mat̲h̲nawī poems. A remarkable specimen is the long and intricate introduction which Niẓāmi Gand̲j̲awī [q.v.] added to the dedication of his didactic poem Mak̲h̲zan al-asrār . Defending the originality of his work, he makes use of the allegory of a spiritual journey in search of the inspiration which only the poet’s own heart can provide. Poetry is related to the logos but also to the Divine word of revelation; the latter association gives the poet a spiritual status close to that of the prophets. Niẓāmī also points out that poetry is an immaterial art, in spite of the fact that it uses all the elements of the cosmos as the raw material for its imagery (Mak̲h̲zan al-asrār, ed. A.A. Alizade, Baku 1960, sections xii-xviii).

Such a high opinion of poetry could not fail to lead to a discussion about the permissibility of the “mercenary” panegyrics of the court poets. This question became particularly acute since the 6th/12th century, when Persian poetry came to be used more and more for religious purposes. Sanāʾī [q.v.] reduced the conflict between his calling as a homiletic poet and the practices of professional court poetry to a choice between “the Law” ( s̲h̲arʿ ) and “poetry” ( s̲h̲iʿr ). Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār [q.v.], claiming the rightful use of poetry by the mystics, harmonised the opposition implied in Sanāʾī’s word play by adding a third term, viz. “the (heavenly) throne” ( ʿars̲h̲ ), symbolising the goal of the mystical search, which in his view sprang from the same source as literary art and the obedience to the Law of Islam, just as the three words shared the same letters ( Muṣībat-nāma , 46-7).

By then, poetry was firmly established as a medium for the expression of mystical experience and religious and ethical instruction. Remarkable for this development were the greater importance of the g̲h̲azal [q.v.], and of the didactical mat̲h̲nawī [q.v.], which became enriched by the often intricate use of narrative elements. ¶ The scope for secular epics became restricted, except on the level of popular literature. The panegyrical ḳaṣīda , as well as the stanzaic poems, were used for other purposes more suitable to religious interests such as didacticism, religious hymns and elegies on the S̲h̲ī ʿī martyrs. The dichotomy between court and religion is only a simplified model of the actual situation. There was an exchange of motives and themes, going into both directions, which gave Persian poetry the ambiguity which became one of its most fascinating features.

According to many modern critics, Persian poetry reached its culmination point in the 8th/14th century, especially with Ḥāfiẓ [q.v.], and then ceased to develop any further. During the Tīmūrid period, a decline already began, marked by the mere imitation of earlier poets and an empty display of rhetorical virtuosity. Under the Ṣafawids [see ṣafawids. III. Literature], there was a brief and limited revival of creativity, exemplified especially in the 16th century by the stylistic fashion of wuḳūʿ-gūʾī , and subsequently by the rise of the sabk -i Hindī [q.v.]. In Persia, the Indian style was not long accepted as an avenue to escape from the impasse, though it produced at least one generally recognized master in the poet Ṣāʾib [q.v.]. About the middle of the 18th century, a reaction to the Indian style, afterwards styled the “literary return” ( bāzgas̲h̲t -i adabī ), took the form of a neoclassicism which continued to dominate poetry until the 20th century. This revival was founded on the early court poetry, which was admired for its harmony, natural grace and simplicity. Nearly all poetry written in the Ḳād̲j̲ār period is at best a clever imitation of poetry produced at the courts of the Sāmānids, G̲h̲aznawids and Sald̲j̲ūḳs.

In the first decade of this century, the Constitutional Revolution ( inḳilāb -i mas̲h̲rūṭa ) again challenged the inventiveness of Persian poets. The novelty of the mas̲h̲rūṭa poetry consisted mainly in the introduction of new subjects, derived from current events, and in an attitude of engagement towards society, both of which had been virtually unknown to the classical tradition. Formal innovation was still only incidental to the main concern with contents, but a few experiments with prosody can be noticed, e.g. the choice of new rhyme schemes by Dihk̲h̲udā (1879-1956) and Bahār’s [q.v.] use of uncommon variations of the stanzaic poems, like the mustazād , an extension of the classical mat̲h̲nawī. More interesting was the turn towards forms hitherto restricted to oral poetry: both ʿĀrif [q.v., in Suppl.] and Bahār recognised the effectiveness of the taṣnīf , a ballad already in use for popular comments on political events, to reach mass audiences during public performances of poetry and music. The strength of the tradition showed itself not only in the overall tendency to stick to the timeworn vocabulary and imagery, but also in attempts to provide individual poems from the past with a topical meaning. A striking example is the treatment of K̲h̲āḳānī’s famous ḳaṣīda on the ruins of the Sāsānid palace at Ctesiphon as a symbol of the modern longing for the rebirth of vanished greatness. Muḥammad Riḍā ʿIs̲h̲ḳī (1893-1924 [q.v., in Suppl.] chose Ctesiphon as the setting for his poems Rastāk̲h̲īz -i salāṭīn -i Īrān and Kafan -i siyāh , written in the novel form of musical drama. In an ode on the Communist Revolution, Lahūtī (1887-1957 [q.v.]) transferred this theme to the Kremlin. The form of the strife poem ( munāẓara ), used by Asadī (11th century), was transformed into a medium for modern social and moral criticism by Parwīn Iʿtiṣāmī (1906-41 [q.v.]).

The impact of Western poetry, which has been ¶ instrumental in the process of literary modernisation in all non-Western cultures, made itself felt comparatively late in Persia. Debates between the proponents of change and the defenders of traditional poetry ( s̲h̲iʿr -i sunnatī ) went on until after the Second World War, although the first signs of Western influence can already be noticed in the early 1920s. Among the first to turn to Western models were ʿIs̲h̲ḳī, with his musical dramas, and Īrad̲j̲ Mīrzā (1874-1924), whose Zuhrā u Manūčihr was an imitation of S̲h̲akespeare’s Venus and Adonis . The allegorical narrative Afsāna (1922) is in retrospect seen as a landmark in the development of modern poetry, although the poet Nīmā Yūs̲h̲īd [q.v.] did not yet depart much from traditional prosody. More important are the atmosphere, which reminds one of French romantic poetry of the 19th century, the realistic descriptions of nature and the reflections on the future of Persian poetry in the discussions of the poet and his muse. In the following decades, Nīmā began to question the principles of classical Persian verse. He rejected its isometric lines and tight rhyme schemes as unsuitable for contemporary poetry, because they forced the poet to use superfluous words in order to fill empty spaces in prescribed patterns and thereby limited his creative freedom. Instead, metre and rhyme should be subservient to poetic expression. In his “broken metrics” ( ʿarūḍ -i s̲h̲ikasta ), the ancient metrical feet can still be recognised, but their number in each line varies according to the expressive needs of the poet. Rhyme also was freed from its formal rigidity; this opened the possibility for various kinds of irregular rhymes as well as for blank verse. Even more radical were Nīmā’s experiments with a new poetic imagery which equally were inspired by modern literary trends in the West, notably by surrealism.

For a long time, Nīmā remained a more or less isolated and controversial pioneer. Only ca. 1950 did a number of young poets accept his ideas as the basis of a modern Persian poetry. Starting from the nucleus of his fundamental rules, they developed themselves into various directions. The most radical innovator among them was Aḥmad S̲h̲āmlū, who also broke through the barrier which had always divided the language of written poetry from spoken Persian. The debate between the modernists and the defenders of the tradition gradually lost most of its heat. Although prominent poets like S̲h̲ahriyār [q.v.] could still make a meaningful use of the ancient forms, by the 1960s the new poetry had become generally accepted.

The political events in Persia after 1941 affected poetry as much as the Constitutional Revolution had done this. Political and social engagement ( taʿahhud ) became again an avowed task of poetry, although political oppression and censureship did not leave a very large scope for the expression thereof. External conditions often forced poets into opaque symbolism. However, the desire to be in line with international trends of modern poetry also gave much modern Persian poetry an obscurity which made it difficult to understand for readers who were still attached to the poetic idiom of the past.

The process of poetic modernisation fostered the rise of literary criticism on a scale which Persia had not known before. Nīmā’s own theories were expounded in private letters and scattered articles which were only recently collected and published by Sīrūs Ṭāhbāz. To most critics, they constitute the basics of their own evaluation of modern poetry.

Bibliography Kay Kāwūs, Ḳābūs-nāma, ed. G̲h̲.-Ḥ. Yūsufī, Tehran 1345 S̲h̲./1967¶

Niẓāmī ʿArūḍī, Čahār maḳāla, ed. M.M. Ḳazwīni and M. Muʿīn, Tehran 1957

Muḥammad ʿAwfī, Lubāb al-albāb, ed. E.G. Browne, London-Leiden 1903-6

Dawlats̲h̲āh, Tad̲h̲kirat al-s̲h̲uʿarāʾ ed. Browne, London-Leiden 1901

U.M. Daudpota, The influence of Arabic poetry on the development of Persian poetry, Bombay 1934

H. Ritter, Über die Bildersprache Niẓāmīs, Berlin-Leipzig 1927

idem, Die Geheimnisse der Wortkunst (Asrār al-Balāġa) des ʿAbdalqāhir al-Curcānī, Wiesbaden 1959

B. Reinert, Probleme de vormongolischen arabisch-persischen Poesiegemeinschaft und ihr Reflex in der Poetik, in Arabic poetry. Theory and development, ed. G.E. von Grunebaum, Wiesbaden 1973, 75-105

J.C. Bürgel, Niẓāmī über Sprache und Dichtkunst, in Islamwissenschaftliche Abhandlungen. Festschrift für Fritz Meier, Wiesbaden 1974, 8-28

J.T.P. de Bruijn, The religious use of poetry, in Studies on Islam, Amsterdam-London 1974, 63-74

idem, Comparative notes on Sanāʾī and Aṭṭār, in Classical Persian Sufism: from its origins to Rumi, ed. L. Lewisohn, London-New York 1993, 361-79

F. Machalski, La littérature de l’Iran contemporain, 3 vols., Wroclaw etc. 1965-80

ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn Zarrīnkūb, Naḳd-i adabī, 2 vols., 3Tehran 1361 S̲h̲./1982

idem, S̲h̲iʿr-i bī-durūg̲h̲ s̲h̲iʿr-i bī-niḳāb, 3Tehran 2536 S̲h̲āhin-s̲h̲āhī/1977

M. Ak̲h̲awān T̲h̲ālīt̲h̲, Bidʿat-hā wa badāyiʿ-i Nīmā Yūs̲h̲īd̲j̲), Tehran 1357 S̲h̲./1978

M.R. Shafīʿī Kadkanī, Persian literature (Belles-Lettres) from the time of Jāmī to the present day, in G. Morrison (ed.), History of Persian literature from the beginning of the Islamic period to the present day, Leiden 1981, 113-206

idem, Ṣuwar-i k̲h̲ayāl dar s̲h̲iʿr-i fārsī, 3Tehran 1366 S̲h̲./1987

idem, Mūsiḳī-yi s̲h̲iʿr, 2Tehran 1368 S̲h̲./1989

R. Barāhinī, Ṭalā dar mis, 3 vols., Tehran 1371 S̲h̲./1992

M. Ḥuḳūḳī, S̲h̲iʿr-i naw az āg̲h̲āz tā imrūz, 2 vols., Tehran 1371 S̲h̲./1992.

(J.T.P. de Bruijn)

3. In Turkish.

A. The pre-Ottoman period [see ʿot̲h̲mānli̊. III. (a) 1; turks. Literature],

B. The Ottoman period [see ʿot̲h̲mānli̊. III. (a), (b), (c)].

C. The Republican period.

When the Ottoman Empire dissolved, the overornate Dīwān poetry of the élite, written in ʿarūḍ [q.v.] using Ottoman Turkish, lost its frame of reference. Republican values envisaged that the literature should go to the people and reflect their lives and values using their language, i.e. spoken Turkish. Although the roots of a search for new forms and expressions for a wider audience go back to the Tanẓīmāt period (mid-19th century), it was during the War of Independence and after the declaration of the Republic (1923) that Turkish intellectuals moved outside Istanbul to acquire a first-hand experience of Turkey and its people. For the poets, the Anatolian villager, the folk poetry in spirit and form (its traditional syllabic metre and various poetic forms) and the wealth of folk traditions which had been so far neglected, now became major sources of inspiration as well as providing vast amount of subject-matter. Dīwān poetry and ʿarūḍ did not vanish immediately after the Republic; in fact, its influence can be traced even in contemporary poets in a synthesised form. Ahmet Haşim (1885-1933), Mehmet Akif Ersoy (1873-1936) and Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) continued to write in ʿarūḍ after the 1920s. Atilla İlhan (1925-), Edip Cansever (1928-85), and Behçet Necatigil (1916-79) make use of the Dīwān style, but without ʿarūḍ, in their works. Beginning with the Tanẓīmāt period, and during the early years of the Republic, it was the French poetic tradition which inspired the Turkish poets; e.g. Beyatli was ¶ under the influence of the Parnassians, and Ahmet Haşim (1884-1933) of Symbolism. One way of looking at modern Turkish poetry is by decades, although the time span is short and the same poets will have continued to write in the next decade, possibly with a change in style.

a. 1923-38. This was the decade when excitement about the new state and the newly-discovered populism and nationalism was deeply felt. The poets of the old school, such as Abdülhak Hamid Tarhan (1852-1937), Ahmet Haşim, Yahya Kemal Beyatli, Celal Sahir Erozan (1883-1935), and Mehmet Akif Ersoy [see meḥmed ʿākif ] continued to write, usually with ʿarūḍ but using a purer Turkish than before. Beyatli lauded the magnificence of the Ottoman Empire and the pain of losing it, as expressed in “The Open Sea”:

While my childhood passed in Balkan cities./There burned in me a longing like a flame./In my heart the melancholy that Byron knew./Haşim, the Symbolist, talked of spiritual exile, and declared “We ignore the generation which has no sense of melancholy”; these two poets were to influence the coming generations more than any of the other poets of the era. Ersoy, writer of the lyrics of the Turkish national anthem, adapted ʿarūḍ to spoken Turkish masterfully and his use of the style of the Islamic k̲h̲uṭba created a most original effect. His poetry was heroic, didactic, idealistic, preaching purity of the soul, and his elegy “For the Fallen at Gallipoli” is one of the most famous poems of the period:

Soldier, you who have fallen for this earth/Your fathers may well lean down from heaven to kiss your brow./You are great, for your blood saves the True Faith./Only the heroes of Badr are your equals in glory./For the populist/nationalist poets of the period, inspired by folk poetry, Ziya Gökalp (1876-1924) [see gökalp , ziya ], and Mehmet Emin Yurdakul (1869-1944) [see meḥmed emīn ] are the best examples, didactic in tone and close to folk poetry in form. Faruk Nafiz Çamlibel (1898-1973) [see čamli̊bel, in Suppl.] wrote about Anatolia and its people with the eyes of an urban intellectual observing the rural scene for the first time. Halit Fahri Ozansoy (1891-1971), Orhan Seyfi Orhon (1890-1972) [see ork̲h̲an seyfī ], Yusuf Ziya Ortaç (1913-1975) [see ortač , yūsuf ḍiyā ], Enis Behiç Koryürek (1891-1949) [see ḳoryürek ], Cahit Külebi (1917-) and Ceyhan Atuf Kansu (1919-78) began to write also during this period. Most of these poets were teacher-poets. Through the Halkevi or “People’s Houses” [see k̲h̲alḳevi ] organisation and its publication, they were able to disseminate their ideas and poems, and an interest in folk culture became popular among the masses through them. A painter and a poet, Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu (1913-75) [see eyyūbog̲h̲lu, in Suppl.], not only used the folk poetry tradition but also depicted the colours and the art of Anatolia using words. Some of these poets were more didactic than others; e.g. Behçet Kemal Çağlar (1908-69) dedicated his poetry to the love of Atatürk and the Republican ideals. The poets painfully observed the wretched economic and social condition of Anatolia, and some perceived the Russian Revolution as a new source of hope. This brings Nazim Hikmet (1902-63) [see nāẓim ḥikmet ] to mind. Under the influence of Mayakovski in his earlier poems, he launched his free verse and, although he also wrote sensitive and tender love poetry, he is better known by his poems of revolution. In the “Epic of Şeyh Bedrettin”; using modern verse, he united, with great skill, the ¶ traditions of Dīwān poetry and folk literature:

It was hot/very hot./The heat was a knife with a bloody handle/and a dull blade,//It was hot/The clouds were loaded,/ready to burst/to burst right away.//Without moving, he looked down/from the rocks/his eyes, like two eagles, descended on the plain./There/the softest and the hardest/the stingiest and the most generous/the most loving/the greatest and loveliest woman/the EARTH/was about to give birth/to give birth right away.//

The era was not dominated only by Nazim Hikmet; there was also much diversity. While Necip Fazil Kisakürek (1905-83) used religious and mystical themes, a group of young poets believing in art for art’s sake gathered their poems into a book called Yedi meşale “The Seven Torches” (1928). These were Muammer Lütfi (1903-47), Sabri Esat Siyavuşgil (1907-68), Yaşar Nabir Nayir (1908-81), Vasfi Mahir Kocatürk (1907-61), Cevdet Kudret Solok (1907-) and Ziya Osman Saba (1910-57). They asserted that they were tired of the current state of poetry and sought new ways, but on close reading, their poetry is clearly under the influence of Parnassianism, and the movement was in any case short-lived. Their contemporaries were Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar (1901-62), Ahmet Muhip Dranas (1909-80), both students of Yahya Kemal, who wrote under the influence of Haşim and Valéry, whilst Ahmet Kutsi Tecer (1901-67) wrote in traditional syllabic metre in stanzaic form expressing genteel sensibilities and Cahit Sitki Taranci (1910-56) achieved popularity with his sincere love of humanity and celebration of life.

b. 1940-60. Politically, the early part of the period was marked by the move from a single-party system to pluralistic democracy and liberalisation, whereas the second part is marked by the crises of democracy and military intervention. In poetry, the 1940s bring to mind firstly the Garip “Strange” or Birinci Yeni “First New” movement. Orhan Veli Kanik (1914-50) [q.v.], Oktay Rifat Horozcu (1914-88) [see oktay , ri̇fat ] and Melih Cevdet Anday (1915-) caused a literary upheaval when they published their poems in a book called Garip in 1941. In this they called for abandoning everything that Turkish literature had so far been teaching, including conventional rigid forms and metres. They asked for less rhyme and for a language reduced to a bare minimum, and an avoidance of metaphors and word plays; instead, their theme would be to celebrate the common man and their aim to write for him. Kanik’s poem “Epitaph”, which talks about the corns of Süleyman Efendi, is a good example. There was little room for sentimentality, but the love and joy of life were always there, mixed with a sinister sense of humour and poetic reality; his “For the Homeland”, often recited even today, is one such poem:

All the things we did for our country/Some of us died/Some of us gave speeches./

Oktay Rifat caught the underlying political desperation of his contemporaries in his “Underdeveloped”.

To fall behind; in science, in art, leafless/Unflowering in the spring; an aching star/Imprinted on the forehead.

But Kanik died young, and the other members of the group were to leave it in the 1950s. This latter decade in Turkey saw the liberalisation of political life. There was a growing middle class which did not care too much for poetry; the beginnings of industrialisation (with all its pain) and emigration to the ¶ big cities caused complex socio-economic changes. The Garip movement in poetry had outlived its time, and its followers had by now turned to other more personal styles: Rifat took up Neo-Surrealism, and Anday began to write in an epic style, intellectually complex poetry. Some of the poets of the period grew tired of the “poetic realism” which had become fashionable with the Garip movement. Salah Birsel (1919-) wrote:

Take “Love for Mankind” as your topic/And free verse as your prosody./Relevant or not,/Whenever it occurs to you,/Insert the word “Hunger”/At a convenient spot./Near the end of the poem/Rhyme “Strife” with “the Right to Good life.”//There, that’s the way to become A Great Poet.

More organised reaction to the Garip came in the form of the İkinci Yeniler “Second New” movement (1955-65), which advocated “art for innovation’s sake”. In the 1960s, a monthly review called Papirüs edited by Cemal Süreyya (1931-90) brought the proponents of this together; İlhan Berk (1916-), Gemal Süreyya, Turgut Uyar (1927-85) and Edip Cansever (1928-86) are the better-known poets of this movement. They tried their hands at new rhythms and more modern imagery, with distortion of language to the degree of meaninglessness as their mark. They tried to recover the poetic qualities banished by the Garip poets, but they were neither élitist nor anti-populist; on the contrary, they tried to depict the experiences of the individual in the city. They were esoteric, individualistic and metaphysical. Thus Cemal Süreyya is witty, subtle and full of clever imagery, with love, understanding, warmth and irony as the major features in his works:

The clock chimed like a Chinese jar./Bending my brim hat over my misery,/Out of my white insomnia, I,/Exiled to your face,/You woman,/You were in every secret corner,/Your shadow nettled on the dark street,/(from “Country”)

Edip Cansever, influenced by T.S. Eliot, told of the alienated man in an urban setting; Ece Ayhan (1931-) was obscure in his prose poems about history and the underworld; Sezai Karakoç (1933-) was inspired by Islam; whilst Kemal Özer (1936-) was politically committed.

During the 1950s, the proponents of classical Turkish poetry formed a circle around the journal Hisar (ran until the 1980s), with such prominent names involved in it as Munis Faik Ozansoy (1911-75), Orhan Seyfi Orhon and Mehmet Çinarli (1925-).

c. 1960-, The striking feature of the 1960s was the politicisation of the young poets after the military takeover, which advocated a firm return to populism and the teachings of Atatürk. The young poets of the 1960s were a sober group, critical of anyone who did not write for a political purpose, so that Nazim Hikmet and Ahmet Arif (1926-91) became their heroes. Ataol Behramoğlu (1942-), Sūreyya Berfe (1943-), İsmail Özel (1944-) started a joint action against what they called the bourgeois writers under the name of “Revolutionary Young Poets”. But after the military intervention of 1971, Behramoğlu abandoned crude propaganda and his didactic attitude; Berfe identified with the underprivileged and wrote with a folk style and popular language and İsmet Özel turned to Islam.

Amongst the other poets of the period may be mentioned Hasan Hüseyin (1927-84), Özdemir İnce (1936-), Arif Damar (1925-), Refik Durbaş (1944-), Özkan Mert (1944-), Kemal Özer (1935-), Turgut Uyar (1927-85), Metin Eloğlu (1927-85) and Edip Cansever (1928-85), whilst Atilla İlhan (1925-) and ¶ Can Yücel (1926-) became influential also. Atilla İlhan combined the elements of classical with folk poetry, and his exotic and romantic imagery made him popular among the young generation in the 1960s. Yücel is subtle in his irony, combined with lyricism and sensitivity; he tackles politics and sex with the same ease, and his mastery of both Ottoman and folk expressions and puns have contributed to his popularity:

We can show you two kinds of people/who’ve learned a thing or two about political finesse:/politicians and convicts./The reason is there for all to see:/for politicians, politics is the art of staying/out of jail,/for convicts it is the prospect of freedom. (Poem no. 26).

General characteristics of modern Turkish poetry are thus the discovery of Turkish, as used by the folk, in its various forms and its wealth of expressions; and a synthesis of centuries of oral tradition, folk literature, Dīwān poetry and universal literary traditions. Halman (1982, 21) lists some of the themes and concerns of Turkish poetry as “nationalism, social justice, search for modernity, Westernization, revival of folk culture, economic and technological progress, human dignity, mysticism, pluralistic society, human rights and freedoms, democratic ideals, hero-cult, populism, Atatürkism, proletarianism, Turanism, Marxist-Leninist ideology, revival of Islam, humanism—in fact, all aspects and components of contemporary culture”.

Bibliography Nermin Menemencioğlu and Fahir İz (eds.), The Penguin book of Turkish verse, London 1978

Talat Sait Halman (ed.), Contemporary Turkish literature, London 1982

Mehmet Kaplan, Cumhuriyet devri Türk şiiri, Ankara 1990

Mahir Ünlü, 20. Yüzyil Türk edebiyati 1940-1960, Istanbul 1990

Cevat Çapan, section Turkey, in Modern literature in the Near and Middle East 1850-1970, London 1991

Feyyaz Karacan Fergar (ed.), Modern Turkish poetry, Ware 1992

Türk şiiri özel sayisi (Çağdas Turk şiiri) in Türk Dili, nos. 481-2 (Ankara 1992)

Ataol Behramoğlu (ed.), Son yüzyil büyük Türk şiiri antolojisi, i-ii, Istanbul 1993.

(Çiğdem Balim)

4. In Urdu.

The word has two common meanings in Urdu. Firstly, it means poetry in general, as an art form. It has a synonym, s̲h̲āʿirī , and the two words are sometimes combined in the expression s̲h̲iʿr-ō-s̲h̲āʿirī . Another Arabic word, naẓm , is also used. The second meaning of s̲h̲iʿr is a verse or couplet, pl. as̲h̲ʿār . There was comparatively little interest in Urdu prose in India until the end of the 18th century. But poetry, following Persian models, thrived in the South—the Deccan—under the patronage of local Muslim rulers, such as those of Golkond́a and Bid̲j̲āpūr, from the early 17th century onwards. Whether the language used is better described as a dialect of Urdu, or as a distinct Dakhani language, is for linguisticians to decide. What cannot be denied is that poetry in the Urdu lingua fianca of northern India owed much to a few years’ stay in Dihlī by a poet of the Deccan, Walī; it is not entirely fanciful to suggest that he is to Urdu poetry what Chaucer is to English.

The forms and techniques of the poetry were based on those of Persian, which in their turn were based on Arabic. The favourite theme was love, embodied in g̲h̲azal [q.v.] poetry. The poet complained of his beloved’s neglect of him, each poem consisting of between ten and twenty verses. The verse consisted of two hemistiches ( miṣraʿ ), each second one having the same rhyme. The rhyme was also established in the first hemistich of the first verse. In some g̲h̲azak , the beloved might be God, whilst when this ¶ beloved was human, it might be masculine rather than feminine.

There were other forms of monorhyme poetry, the most important being ḳaṣīda [q.v.] or eulogy, and satire or hid̲j̲āʾ [q.v.]. There were various types of stanzaic poetry, the simplest, used for longer narrative poems, being mat̲h̲nawī [q.v.] in rhymed couplets. Elegy ( mart̲h̲iya [q.v.]) was at first in verses of four, then later six, hemistiches. In addition, mention should be made of short poems ( ḳiṭʿa , pl. ḳiṭaʿ ), consisting of as few a one or two verses. These might, for example, serve as chronograms, giving birth or death dates of famous men in Arabic letters instead of numbers.

Authoritative critical and analytical books about poetry in Urdu did not appear until the 19th century. By this time, the so-called Dihlī school of Urdu poetry, which owed its origin to Walī, was on the decline. Political instability, due to Afghan and Marāt́hī incursions, had made the capital of the Mug̲h̲al Empire a difficult place of residence, and poets gravitated to Lucknow. India fell increasingly under the control of the British, through their East India Company. This control was strengthened by the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. Education followed British criteria. This affected the ʿAlīgaŕh Movement led by Sir Sayyid Aḥmad K̲h̲ān [q.v.]. Among the major influences on Urdu poetry were loosening of the stranglehold of g̲h̲azal and of Persian influence, and the rise of literary criticism. As Muhammad Sadiq says (op. cit. in Bibl ., 269 ff.), the Muḳaddama -yi s̲h̲iʿr-ō-s̲h̲āʿirī by Alṭāf Ḥusayn Ḥālī “Marks the dawn of historical and scientific criticism in Urdu ... it is the first formal treatise on poetry in Urdu.” Ḥālī saw poetry as a civilising instrument instilling morality. Its degeneration in the East was due largely to political reasons. Despotism killed sincerity and encouraged exaggeration. To end this decadence, poetry should not only be subordinate to morality but should also eschew the supernatural and follow reality. Ḥālī refers to English, Persian and Arabic as well as to Urdu poetry. He aimed to commend poetry to the puritanical Indian middle classes who were highly suspicious of it. He was himself a poet; he did not always live up to his own standards, but in his Musaddas (a long poem subtitled “The flow and ebb of Islam”, in stanzas of six hemistiches) he found a theme worthy of his genius.

A second major study of Urdu poetry is Āb -i- ḥayāt , by Muḥammad Ḥusayn Āzād (1830-1910) (see Sadiq, 288 ff.). But much of our information about Urdu poets comes from a literary form called tad̲h̲kira [q.v.]: that is, short notes on a number of poets illustrated by short quotations. In the earlier examples, the biographical information tended to be in Persian.

The popularity of poetry was both illustrated and stimulated by the social institution of the mus̲h̲āʿara [q.v.]. This took the form of a meeting of poets who would recite their poems in rivalry—not unlike that of the mediaeval German Minnesingers. These played a major role in the emergence in Lucknow in the mid-19th century of the mart̲h̲īyas of Anīs and Dabīr [q.vv.] as rivals to g̲h̲azals in popularity.

This article is not intended to be a history of Urdu poetry. For this, reference should be made to the two general works by Muhammad Sadiq, and Ram Babu Saksena in the Bibl., and to the individual articles on poetical forms and individual poets in this Encyclopaedia . As with modern Arabic poetry, one sees classical traditions modified by Western notions. Those notions in Urdu came largely from English, though occasionally from Russian and (in the case of Iḳbāl) German. Until the present century, it was quite common ¶ for poets to produce Persian dīwāns as well as Urdu ones—not infrequently as copious as or even more copious than their Urdu dīwān s. This applied to G̲h̲ālib (1797-1869 [q.v.]), considered by many as the last of the great classical Urdu poets, but it also applies to Muḥammad Iḳbāl (1873-1938 [q.v.]), the “national poet of Pakistan.”

(J.A. Haywood)

Bibliography Muhammad Sadiq, A history of Urdu literature, London 1964, is a mine of information on the subject, often unrivalled in the analysis and discussion of important aspects. Examples are his accounts of Wall, Ḥalī and Āzād. Particularly helpful are the numerous Urdu quotations, with English translations. Unfortunately, these are lacking in the other major study, Ram Babu Saksena, A history of Urdu literature, Allahabad 1927. For a general account in Urdu, see ʿIbādat Brēlwī, S̲h̲āʿirī awr s̲h̲āʿirī kī tanḳīd. For the tad̲h̲kira, see Farmān Fatḥpūrī, Urdu s̲h̲uʿarāʾ kē tad̲h̲kirē awr tad̲h̲kira nigārī, Lahore 1972. Among the many editions of Ḥālī’s Muḳaddama-yi-s̲h̲iʿr-ō-s̲h̲āʿirī, one may mention that edited by Waḥīd Ḳurēs̲h̲ī, Lahore 1953. Āzād’s Āb-i-ḥayāt was first published in 1881, but made no mention of the important poet Muʾmin [q.v.]

consequently, a later edition should be used.

5. In Malay and in Indonesia [see Suppl.].

6. In Swahili [see swahili. 2. Literature].

7. In Hausa.

Hausa waka includes all forms of song, including a number of categories borrowed from Classical Arabic literature. The most important of these are: madahu (< madḥ , madīḥ ), or sometimes begen annabi, basically “pleading with the Prophet”; waʾazi (< waʿẓ “warning, admonition”), which dwells on the torments of Hell Fire for the wicked and the joys of Paradise for the believer; wakokin tausari or wakokin najumi, astrological verse, dealing with the Zodiac and other astronomical and astrological matters; wakokin tauhidi (< tawḥīd ), which sets out the essentials of Islamic theology; and wakokin fikih, dealing with Islamic law. These categories are, however, only approximate, and there is much overlapping; thus waʾazi verse may include material pertaining to tauhidi or even madahu.

For a fuller treatment, and for bibliography, see hausa. iii. Literature.

(M. Hiskett)

Cite this page al-Muʿtazz, Ibn, Arazi, A., Moreh, S., Bruijn, J.T.P. de, Balim, Çiğdem, J.A. Haywood and M. Hiskett, “S̲h̲iʿr”, in: Encyclopaedia of Islam, Second Edition, Edited by: P. Bearman, Th. Bianquis, C.E. Bosworth, E. van Donzel, W.P. Heinrichs. Consulted online on 10 January 2017 <http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/1573-3912_islam_COM_1058>