Introduction

In 1374/1995, the Dīvān (Book of poems) of Jahān Malik Khātūn was edited and published by Pūrānʹdukht Kāshānī Rād and Kāmil Ahmadʹpūr. Despite being the most extensive collection of poetry by a woman—and a royal woman—it has remained largely overlooked by scholars of Persian literature. In the prose introduction to her Dīvān, Jahān Malik Khātūn articulates the ultimate aspiration of the wise as ensuring that “a mark from their existence remains inscribed upon the pages of time,” thereby becoming “a cause for the perpetuation of their names.”¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, ed. Pūrānʹdukht Kāshānī Rād and Kāmil Ahmadʹpūr (Tehran: Zavvār, 1374/1995), 3. She recounts that from time to time, she would dictate a piece, reminiscent of the disordered state of love-stricken hearts, to occupy her thought. Yet, due to what she describes as the “scarcity and rarity of noblewomen and ladies of the Iranian realm,” she initially regarded the act of compiling her verses a flaw.²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 3. However, upon observing that works attributed to figures such as “the cherished daughter of the Messenger of God, the Lady of the Day of Judgment, Fātimah-ʾi Zahrā (may God be pleased with her),” as well as poems by ʿĀyishah Maqariyyah, Pādishāh Khātūn and Qutlughʹshāh Khātūn, and other women had gained renown, she felt emboldened to preserve her own compositions.³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 3–4. This decision to compose and compile poetry within a predominantly patriarchal literary tradition, and at a time when Persian poetry had reached its peak with luminaries such as Hāfiz, Salmān Sāvajī, Khvājū Kirmānī, ʿUbayd Zākānī, Kamāl al-Dīn Khujandī, and others, marks her most enduring accomplishment.

Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry provides limited space for ambiguity or layered interpretation. Its themes, often lacking in philosophical depth, reflect the emotions of a solitary woman who has consciously chosen the path of seclusion. This ethos is encapsulated in the following couplet:

Choose solitude and seek no companionship among friends.
Sit alone and desire no confidant from among your kin.⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 3.

The themes of her poems are neither novel nor innovative, as they also appear in the works of poets such as Saʿdī and others of the AH 7th/13th and AH 8th/14th centuries. Both formally and conceptually, her poetry conforms to the conventions of the Iraqi style. Many of her ghazals lack rhetorical intricacy and literary devices. A distinctly feminine voice is absent from her poetry, and her verses are often indistinguishable from those of male poets. Nowhere in the Dīvān does one encounter emotional expressions typically associated with a woman in love. For example, her beloved is referred to using the names of well-known literary figures such as Laylī, Shīrīn, ʿAzrā, Gulshāh, and Vīs, while the poet casts herself in the traditionally male roles of Majnūn, Farhād, Khusraw, Vāmiq, Varqah, and Rāmīn.⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 404. Elsewhere, the beloved is described as veiled, coquettish in glance, and adorned with vasmah (a traditional cosmetic).⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 258. The following couplet reflects this conventional portrayal of the veiled beloved, familiar from the poetry of male poets:

Alas, if only in wakefulness
I could behold their face unveiled.⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 347.

Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry is marked by recurring themes of sorrow, pain, and anguish. This tone is unsurprising given the historical context of her life. Her father, Masʿūd Shāh Īnjū, was murdered, and not long thereafter, her uncle and protector, Shāh Abū Īshāq, met the same tragic fate. The death of her child inflicted a further, irreparable wound. As she writes in lamentation:

Alas and woe, the joy of my soul has departed,
And that precious life, so young, from this world has been taken.
O light of my eyes, the world has been laid to waste by your grief,
For the light of my eyes, in the bloom of youth, has vanished from this world.⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 404.

In the opening verses of many of her poems, the word jahān (world) appears with notable frequency. It seems that the intended audience of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry is the poet herself; in other words, the poet employs her poetic pen name, traditionally reserved for the final or penultimate verse, at the very beginning of her ghazals. This self-address functions as a form of internal dialogue or poetic soliloquy. By employing the term “world” to signify “fate” or “the passage of time,” she engages with a repertoire of themes already deeply embedded in the Persian poetic tradition, yet does so without introducing significant innovation. These themes include the sorrow and pain associated with the world, its capriciousness and impermanence, the futility of worldly affairs, and the restless quality of the world likened to the beloved’s curls. Other recurring motifs present the lover as having only the beloved in this world, the beloved as indifferent to worldly matters, and the lover’s heart aimlessly wandering through the world. The following verses illustrate these and related ideas:

1. If the soul exists, it is surely worthy of you, O water of life!
May two hundred souls and worlds be sacrificed at your feet!⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 34.

2. May your heart be joyful from the turning of the world,
And may you be free from the sorrows of the world.¹⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 37.

3. Behold that spring breeze has risen,
Now it has adorned the meadow of the world.¹¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 41.

4. Each moment, the burden of the world upon our hearts grows heavier
And from the blows of the sky’s sword, our soul is more wounded.¹²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 48.

5. My sight is that of an enlightened eye
For your countenance is the very foundation of my heart and faith.¹³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 49.

6. When my two eyes made my heart bind to your beauty
My heart tied itself to you and was freed from the sorrows of the world.¹⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 58.

7. If you truly understand, all the world is but nothing.
Why, then, should you fret over the affairs of the world, which are naught?¹⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 60.

8. My heart has grown so accustomed to the sorrow of your love
That it has turned the whole world solely toward your love.¹⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 64.

9. The entire world is like springtime.
In the orchard of the soul, blossoms are in full swing.¹⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 67.

10. The world, like your tangled tresses, is restless.
Think not that it will ever with anyone stay reconciled.¹⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 68.

11. My heart demands your union from the world,
For in the ache of parting, it becomes the joy of stranger.¹⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 69.

12. Though the world is a garden, lush and fair in every part,
For me, your face alone brings solace, freeing my heart.²⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 72.

13. The world, boundless and endless, is born of love’s embrace,
A swimmer adrift in the vast, infinite sea of love’s grace.²¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 72.

14. Through union with you, the world to me is sweet and bright,
Yet I, your wild gazelle, am caught in love’s snare.²²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 76.

15. O heart, in this world, joy is but rare.
From this realm, your share is naught but sorrow.²³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 78.

16. Why ask of my heart’s state? Lost and adrift in this world it remains,
Bewildered by love’s labor, free from all earthly chains.²⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 79.

17. A fire born from the sorrow of your absence burns within my soul.
From its sparks, my cries and laments echo through both worlds.²⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 87.

18. It is revealed in both worlds who my beloved is.
The enchantment of both worlds is that coquettish idol of mine.²⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 87.

19. I am free from the world and all it contains.
What care have I for the thoughts of foes or friends’ refrains?²⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 91.

20. O heart, that from both worlds has sought only the desire for the beloved,
The goal in both this world and the next is the visage of the beloved.²⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 92.

21. O wind, if you pass by the door of my beloved,
Look and see if she casts a glance upon the state of this world.²⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 94.

22. My heart, like a drunken eye, is now in the throes of intoxication.
Sitting in sorrow for her face, the world has become a lane of grief.³⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 95.

23. The purpose of the world, of both worlds, is the union with the beloved.
If not, what other task in this world is there for me to pursue?³¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 96.

24. O world, what is this endless pain within my heart?
My suffering has surpassed all bounds; now tell me, what is the cure?
My heart has burned from the cruelty of your ways, as I observe the state of the world.
What is this tyranny from the bewildered, wandering heavens?³²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 98.

25. The world, once again, is in the days of youth.
A time for the pursuit of joy and prosperity.³³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 102.

26. My heart cannot endure the sight of your sun-like face,
For in this world, there is no spectacle more delightful than that face.
You are the cypress of the soul, while we lie low in dust.
Tell me, Beloved, why does your heart not incline, why does your affection not shine toward us?³⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 102.

27. In this world, nothing but sorrow is our share,
No rival but grief and despair.
We are lovers of the dust in her lane,
As if in this world, no beloved for us does remain.³⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 104.

28. O heart, since the world is not as we desire,
The falcon of loyalty does not fall into our snare.³⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 104.

29. Beloved, in this world, nothing but the sorrow of your love remains.
For the dust at your feet, no offering but my soul sustains.³⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 107.

30. In this world, there is nothing but pain upon my soul.
My only companions are pain and sighs, cold and dull.³⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 108.

31. O heart, what remedy when the world is not steadfast?
In this age, nothing but pain and tears of blood amass.
Beware, grieve not for the state of this fleeting age,
For the affairs of the world are not on a stable stage.³⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 109.

32. Of my love, no trace remains within your heart,
And of the soul of the world, you remain unaware.⁴⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 111.

33. If I fall for your moon-like face, it is no surprise,
For in this world, none like you ever meet my eyes.⁴¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 114.

34. In this world, my Beloved, I have none but your grace.
Come to my rescue, for no savior can take your place.⁴²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 118.

35. Alas, for none but your love can answer my cry,
And in both worlds, I have no one but your sorrow.⁴³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 118.

36. In my love for you, there is no sleep nor sustenance.
In this world, there is no beloved but you.⁴⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 126.

37. Of my restless state, she remains unaware
Or if aware, she shows no worldly care.⁴⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 127.

38. As long as the world exists, it is never free from sorrow.
For the wounds of the heart, there is no balm to borrow.⁴⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 128.

39. Though my beloved shows me no kindness or grace,
In all the world, no soul loves her like I do, in this place. 
For her precious soul, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and lands.
My love and devotion for her are no hidden strands.⁴⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 128.

40. Why cast no glance toward me, weary and worn?
For in all the world, no refuge but you is born.
Cease your cruelty, grant the heartbroken their due today.
In both worlds, no king like you holds sway.⁴⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 130.

41. O moon-faced one, your visage is such a world-adornment.
In the garden, your cypress-like stature is peerless.⁴⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 131.

42. My mad heart is in a frenzy of longing for you.
My eyes roam the world in the alleys of your imagination.⁵⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 131.

The pen name Jahān belongs to the poet, and its usage in the opening verses, given its frequency, is unprecedented among Persian poets. This feature constitutes one of the distinguishing characteristics of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry. An examination of her published Dīvān reveals that, of the 319 ghazals composed with rhymes ending in t, the word jahān appears forty-five times in the opening couplets of forty-two ghazals. Additionally, jahān occurs forty-three times in the second and third verses. A closer analysis of the remaining verses throughout her Dīvān further supports this observation. For instance, in the first to third verses of 332 ghazals composed with the rhyme d, the word jahān is used seventy-three times. This frequent recurrence suggests that the poet often wrote either as a form of self-address or, considering the literal meaning of jahān as “world” or “era,” sought to create meaning through subtle ambiguities and paronomasia. As seen in many of the examples above, this introspective engagement with meaning is often accompanied by the pairing of jahān with jān (soul or life), and occasionally with words such as gham (sorrow), dard (pain), ranj (suffering), and ghussah (grief). These recurring juxtapositions produce a cycle of repetition, in which certain themes are expressed repeatedly. This pattern indicates that the poet’s lexicon, particularly in the context of ghazal, remains somewhat constrained. It may also suggest that, in her poetic practice, Jahān Malik Khātūn does not always exhibit the technical refinement or stylistic breadth found in the works of more seasoned poets.

In order to further refine her poetic skills, Jahān Malik Khātūn engaged in the imitation of other poets. This strategy served two principal purposes: first, to acquire and master the art of poetry, and second, to compete with the renowned poets of her time and demonstrate her own poetic prowess. As a result, she found it necessary to imitate and respond to the poetry of earlier and contemporary poets in an effort to establish her own reputation. In striving to rival the masters, improve her poetic craft, and assert her own talent, she adopted a fixed model and adhered to the following principles in her engagement with the ghazals of others. This approach was not unique to Jahān Malik Khātūn; many other poets who practiced imitation followed this model:

1. Selecting and mentally retaining a favored ghazal from another poet or poets.
2. Transcribing all or most of the rhymes and, in some case, the radīf (refrain) of that poem separately.
3. Removing certain rhymes, adding others, and introducing a new radīf, while maintaining the overall mood and thematic coherence of the original poem.
4. Preserving the literary devices of the model poem, along with its concepts and themes, by replacing its vocabulary with synonyms or personally selected alternatives, thereby retaining the essence of the poem while adapting its expression.
5. Repeating the concepts of the admired poem by altering the syntactic structure of its hemistichs.

The imitation of prior works is neither unusual nor implausible. Every text, from its inception to its final form, remains intrinsically connected to the texts that precede it. It could be argued that reading, understanding, and interpreting a text is contingent upon familiarity with earlier works. A poet’s writing is often consciously and necessarily related to the works of preceding and contemporary poets, particularly in terms of the influence of poetic structure, meter, refrain, and rhyme. This relationship is intentional. The poet, with deliberate awareness of the poetry of earlier or contemporaneous poets, is influenced in various ways by their works. By demonstrating their ability to develop and reinterpret existing themes and concepts, poets attract the attention of literary scholars. It is through this process that poets assert their poetic authority and take pride in the individuality and distinctiveness of their own style.

Attaining a distinct poetic style is contingent upon a poet’s engagement in competition with other poets, a process that often unfolds through imitation and response to others, typically accompanied by an adoption of the meter and rhyme scheme of the model poem. In essence, such acts of poetic response, imitation, and adaptation have not only served as methods of learning and refinement but have also functioned as means through which poets articulate their individuality and assert their superiority over their contemporaries.

Sayf Jām Hiravī in Jāmiʿ al-sanāyiʿ va al-awzān (The compendium of poetic arts and meters) provides a precise definition and classification of poetic imitation and response. He explains that when a poet composes a poem in the same meter, rhyme, refrain, or using the same literary devices as another poet, whether by personal inclination or at the request or command of another, it is termed mujābāt (response).⁵¹Sayf Jām Hiravī, Jāmiʿ al-sanāyiʿ va al-awzān, ed. Zaynab Sādiqī-Nijād (Tehran: Intishārāt-i Duktur Mahmūd-i Afshār, bā hamkārī-i Intishārāt-i Sukhan, 1399/2020), 107. This practice is classified into three types: If the mujīb (responding poet) surpasses the original poet in poetic excellence, the response is called tanbīh (admonition), meaning it serves either to make the original poet aware of his own shortcomings or to demonstrate that the content could have been more skillfully expressed. If the response is of a lower quality and does not reach the level of the original, it is referred to as mutābaʿat (emulation). If the responding poet successfully matches the original in poetic merit, the work is simply called mujābāt. ⁵²Jām Hiravī, Jāmiʿ al-sanāyiʿ, 108. 

Some writers have also shown interest in the practice of poetic imitation and response, dedicating entire books or sections of their works to this subject. One such example is Mūnis al-ahrār (The companion of the free), written by Muhammad ibn Badr Jājarmī in AH 741/1340. In the section titled Fī zikr al-tashbīhāt (On the mention of similes), Jājarmī meticulously documents numerous instances of poetic imitation and response, presenting them in a comparative and continuous format.⁵³See “Introduction” in Muhammad Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār [The companion of the free in the subtleties of poetry], ed. Mīr-sālah Tabībī (Tehran: Anjuman-i Āsār-i Millī, 1337/1958). For instance, he cites the renowned verse of ʿUnsurī: “Nawrūz has arrived, and with it, the festival follows in its wake.”⁵⁴Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 214. He then includes responses composed in the same meter and rhyme by various poets. Muʿizzī: “O you, fresher than the petal of a newly bloomed rose, adorned in splendor.”⁵⁵Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 216. Mukhtārī: “O chain of musk, cast upon the moon.”⁵⁶Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 218. Sanāʾī: “O you, whose sweet laughter pours like nectar upon the bowl of sugar.”⁵⁷Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 219. He also includes the verse by Sayf al-Aʿraj: “O you whose head is bound with the tresses of your hair at dawn,”⁵⁸Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 222. which follows the same meter and rhyme. Additionally, he cites the verse by Abū al-Faraj Rūnī: “Nawrūz has made the heart of both the old and the young bloom,” followed by verses by Anvarī: “What is this youth and beauty in the world?” and Saʿīd Hiravī: “You have granted sweetness to the soul through your sweet lips,” all composed within the same thematic and metrical framework.⁵⁹Jājarmī, Mūnis al-ahrār fī daqāyiq al-ashʿār, 256–61.

The term zamīn (ground or earth) refers to the overall structural framework of a poem, determined by its meter, rhyme, and refrain. When a poet composed a ghazal with a previously unrecorded combination of these elements, it was said that the zamīn of the poem belonged to that poet, or that another poem had been composed within the zamīn of a specific ghazal. This term appears to function as a necessary linguistic shorthand for the collective reference to “meter, rhyme, and refrain.”⁶⁰ Muhammad Rizā Shafīʿī Kadkanī, Shāʿirī dar hujūm-i muntāqidān [A poet under the onslaught of critics] (Tehran: Āgah, 1390/2012), 45. 

Tuhfat al-habīb (The gift of the beloved) by Fakhrī Hiravī, written in the AH 10th/16^th century, is a work dedicated to poetic imitation and poetic response. The author records ghazals and ashʿār-i tarhī (verses proposed by kings, literary patrons, or hosts of poetic gatherings in which poets were invited to compose new poems following the same meter and rhyme scheme as the given verse), followed by the responses composed by various poets within the same zamīn. For example, Saʿdī composed the verse “If my moon unveils her face,” to which Khusraw Dihlavī responded with “You drive my heart and soul to ruin.” Salmān Sāvajī replied, “Before the union of dust and water existed,” and Kamāl Khujandī answered, “Yesterday at dawn, you cast aside your veil.”⁶¹Fakhrī Hiravī, Tuhfat al-habīb [The gift of the beloved], Tehran, Kitābʹkhānah-ʾi Majlis-i Shūrā-yi Islāmī, MS  7027, AH 1316/1899, f.5.

Zayn al-Dīn Mahmūd Vāsifī, writing in the AH 10th/16th, also addresses the process of poetic composition within the framework of mujābāt in his work Badāyiʿ al-vaqāyiʿ (Amazing events). In it, he provides detailed accounts of poems composed by himself and others in response to verses by renowned poets such as Kamāl Ismāʿīl, ʿAbd al-Vāsiʿ Jabalī, Khusraw Dihlavī, and others.⁶²Zayn al-Dīn Mahmūd Vāsifī, Badāyiʿ al-vaqāyiʿ, ed. Alexander Boldyrev (Tehran: Buniyād-i Farhang-i Īrān, 1349/1970), 1:95, 147, 212. An examination of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry through the lens of tatabuʿāt (imitation) and mujābāt (response) reveals the poets she studied and illustrates how, following this literary model, she engaged with their hemistichs and verses, drawing on the stylistic and thematic elements in the development of her own work.

Review of Literature

Traces of Saʿdī, Hāfiz, and Khusraw Dihlavī’s poems can be observed in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s verse, a subject that has been examined in a number of studies. Parvīn Dawlatʹābādī, in her book Manzūr-i khiradmānd (The vision of the sage), discusses the influence of Hāfiz’s ghazals on Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry.⁶³ Parvīn Dawlatābādī, Manzūr-i khiradmānd: Barrasī-i ahvāl va fuzīdah-ʾi ashʿār-i Jahān Malik Khātūn [The vision of the sage: A Selection of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry (Tehran: Gawhar, 1367/1988), 41. Muhammad Husaynī Maʿsūm, in an article, compares Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry with that of Saʿdī and Hāfiz.⁶⁴Muhammad Husaynī Maʿsūm, “Jahān Malik Khātūn: Shāgird-i Saʿdī, hamʹdars-i Hāfiz” [Jahān Malik Khātūn: Student of Saʿdī, classmate of Hāfiz] in Parnīyān-i sukhan: Panjumīn hamāyish-i pazhūhishʹhā-ʾi zabān va adabiyāt-i Fārsī (Sabzevar: University of Sabzevar, 1389/2010), 1311–34. Muhsin Sharīfī Sahī, in another article, analyzes Jahān Malik Khātūn’s engagement with and influence from Khusraw Dihlavī’s poems.⁶⁵Muhsin Sharīfī Sahī, “Barrisī-i ashʿār-i Saʿdī va Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī dar Dīvān-i Jahān Malik Khātūn va muʿarrafī-i ashʿār-i naw′yāftah-ʾi ū [An analysis of the poetry of Saʿdī and Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī in the Dīvān of Jahān Malik Khātūn and the introduction of her newly discovered poems]”, Zabān va Adabiyāt-i Fārsī 73, no. 242 (Fall and Winter 1399/2020): 171–200. In a separate article, Sahī also examines the influence and literary appropriation of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī from Khusraw Dihlavī. He argues that Jalāl, by employing strategies such as “maintaining identical meter, rhyme, and poetic structure, utilizing distinct poetic expressions, and directly incorporating entire hemistichs and verses from Khusraw without alteration,” appropriated forty of his poems.⁶⁶Muhsin Sharīfī Sahī, “Barrisī-i taʾsīrʹpazīrī va sirqāt-i adabī-i Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī az shiʿr-i Khusraw Dihlavī” [An analysis of the influence and literary rivalry of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī with the poetry of Khusraw Dihlavī], Nāmah-ʾi Farhangistān 17, no. 2 (Fall and Winter 1397/2018): 84. In essence, both Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Jahān Malik Khātūn were influenced by Khusraw’s poetry, and, as will be further explored, Jahān Malik Khātūn not only engaged with Khusraw’s verse but also showed a particular interest in Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poetry.

Ashrafʹzādah, in an article, examines the renowned ghazal featuring the repeated refrain gham makhur (“do not grieve”). He asserts that Hāfiz, Jahān Malik Khātūn, and other poets composed their ghazals in a literary gathering hosted by either Shāh Abū Ishāq or Shah Shujāʿ Muzaffarī, in response to a poetic theme proposed by Shams al-Dīn, the author of Dīvān-i Juvaynī (Juvaynī’s Book of poems). Ultimately, Ashrafʹzādah presents two possibilities: that Hāfiz was influenced by Jahān Malik Khātūn, or that Jahān Malik Khātūn drew inspiration from Hāfiz, offering arguments in support of each view.⁶⁷Rizā Ashrafʹzādah, “Bazm-i shāʿirānah-ʾi Shīrāz va Hāfiz Shīrāzī” [The poetic gathering of Shiraz and Hāfiz of Shiraz], Faslʹnāmah-ʾi Takhassusī-i Adabiyāt-i Fārsī-i Dānishgāh-i Āzād-i Mashhad 4, no. 13 (2007): 20–36.

Jahān Malik Khātūn also found inspiration in the poetry of contemporaries such as Salmān Sāvajī (d. AH 778/1377), and traces of their verses appear in her compositions. She paid special attention to poets from her hometown or those who lived in Shiraz, where she resided. Among these poets were Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī (d. AH 739/1339) and Khvajū Kirmānī (d. AH 763/1362), both of whom spent significant time in Shiraz. Jahān Malik Khātūn’s birth and death are estimated to have occurred between AH 724/1324 and after AH 784/1383.⁶⁸Jahān Malik Khātun, Dīvān, 9. At the time of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s death, Jahān Malik Khātūn was fifteen years old and lived beyond the lifespans of these poets. Given this timeline and the fact that Jahān Malik Khātūn was a follower of these poets, the possibility of Jahān Malik Khātūn influencing these earlier poets is minimal.

1. Jahān Malik Khātūn and Responses to Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, Salmān Sāvajī and Khvājū Kirmānī 

To better understand how Jahān Malik Khātūn drew inspiration from the works of other poets, it is useful to begin with an examination of her ghazals shaped through poetic imitation, particularly those influenced by the poetry of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmānī. After a close engagement with the works of Saʿdī, Khusraw Dihlavī, and Hāfiz, Jahān Malik Khātūn appears to have been most influenced by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poetry, while also showing a particular fondness for the works of Salmān Sāvajī and Khvājū Kirmānī. Her study and imitation of these poets will be explored in two sections: (1) Incorporation, and (2) Influence of rhyme and refrain.

According to Rādavīānī in Tarjumān al-balāghah (The interpreter of eloquence), the first treatise on rhetoric, the literary device of tazmīn (implication) is defined as follows: “It occurs when a poet is so captivated by a verse from another’s poetry that they weave it into their own composition, not as a thief would, but as one would welcome a guest. The convention of this practice dictates that the poet must, from the outset, acknowledge the origin of the verse, whether by name, hint, or allusion.”⁶⁹Muhammad ibn ʿUmar Rādavīyānī, Tarjumān al-balāghah [The interpreter of eloquence], ed. Ahmad Ātash (Istanbul: Ibrāhīm Khurūs, 1949), 103. Rashīd al-Dīn Vatvāt also articulates the notion of incorporating a verse or line from another poet “as a guest, not as a thief.” He adds an important condition: “It should be done in the spirit of borrowing, not in the manner of theft. Moreover, the borrowed line must be well-known, and there should be a clear indication so that the listener does not suspect or associate it with theft.”⁷⁰Rashīd al-Dīn Vatvāt, Dīvān, bih inzimām-i Hadāʾiq al-sihr va daqāyiq al-shiʿr [Dīvān, compiled with Hadāʾiq al-sihr and faqāyiq al-shiʿr], ed. Saʿīd Nafīsī (Tehran: Kitābʹkhānah-ʾi Barānī, 1339/ 1960), 692.

1.1 The Influence of Jahān Malik Khātūn from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī

A) Influence through Implication of Verses and the Utilization of Phrases and Themes

1.1.1

Several verses from one of Jalāl ʿAzud’s nine-verse ghazals are particularly admired and appreciated by Jahān Malik Khātūn. Without directly citing his name, she incorporates five of his verses into her own seven-verse ghazal, closely mirroring his rhyme schemes. The first two lines of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazal appear word-for-word in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s composition:

What fault was committed that you suddenly severed affection?
What occurred that you turned away from us so abruptly?
Who now could place trust in your word and promise,
When every vow you made, you swiftly abandoned?⁷¹Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, ed. Ahmad Karamī (Tehran: Mā, 1366/1987), 198; Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 461.

The fifth couplet of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poem reads as follows:

A thousand times I warned you, “Do not heed
The slander of foes against friends,” yet you paid no heed.⁷²ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 198.

Jahān Malik Khātūn composed the third verse of her ghazal as a clear reference to this couplet, making only slight modifications. Jahān Malik Khātūn rendered it as:

A thousand times I have said, do not heed the words of enemies as told by friends!

The rhyme in both verses remains identical, and in her version, she writes:

A thousand times I cautioned, “You will not listen—beware!
To the words of enemies spoken against friends,” yet you did not hear.⁷³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 461.

The seventh couplet of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī is as follows:

We did not decide upon that you would bring my heart’s delight,
But not only did you fail, you brought my soul to the brink of night.⁷⁴ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 198.

Jahān Malik Khātūn composed the fourth verse of her ghazal by changing the word naguftīm (“we did not decide upon”) to biguftīm (“we decided upon”), drawing from the above verse. However, there is a possibility that the editors’ reading is mistaken, and she may have simply repeated Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s line verbatim:

We decided upon that you would bring my heart’s delight,
But not only did you fail, you brought my soul to the brink of night.⁷⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 461.

The eighth couplet of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī s poem reads:

What manner of state is this, that you inquire not of our condition?
What manner of enmity is this, that you sever ties with your own friends?⁷⁶ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 198.

Jahān Malik Khātūn offers a variant rendition of this couplet in the fifth and sixth verses of her ghazal. She constructs one line from the first half of the hemistich above, and another line from its second half. Nearly identical to the second hemistich of the original, she repeats it across the second lines of both verses, thereby introducing the same theme twice within a single ghazal:

What manner of friendship is this, that you inquire not of our state?
What manner of enmity is this, that you sever ties with your own beloved?
What manner of state is this, that you show no care for your servants?
What manner of behavior is this, that you turn away from your friends?⁷⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 461.

It appears that the ghazal in question by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī was among the poems Jahān Malik Khātūn kept for the purpose of learning the craft of poetry. By rearranging some of its words, she composed her own ghazal. The third, fourth, sixth, and ninth verses of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazal do not seem to have held particular interest for her. Moreover, the seventh verse of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s ghazal, which contains her pen name, is not found in Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s composition and appears to be entirely her own creation:

Do not let the world slip from your hands henceforth, out of the reach of envious desires,
For now, you have attained the longing of your heart from the world.⁷⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 461.

1.1.2

One of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazals includes the following verses:

No night passes without my heart bleeding from your sorrow,
And my pale cheeks are never tinted with the hue of roses from my tears.
I said my days would pass without your beauty,
O delicate soul, but what shall I do when they will not?
The hem of your union slipped away from my grasp
Alas, what remedy is there, when fate will not be reversed?⁷⁹ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 95.

In a ghazal composed by Jahān Malik Khātūn modeled after Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poetry, she uses rhymes such as khūn(blood), gulgūn (rose-hued), bīrūn (outward), vārūn (inverted), and chūn (as), all of which also appear in Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazal. Jahān Malik Khātūn draws on the themes of the three cited verses by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, directly quoting the first hemistich and repeating certain words and their equivalents. In Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poem, the bakht-i vārūn (inverted fate) causes the dāman-i visāl (hem of union) to slip from the lover’s grasp. In Jahān Malik Khātūn’s rendering, the tāliʿ-i vārūn (inverted fortune) prevents the promise of vaʿdah-ʾi visāl (promise of union) from being fulfilled. However, her poetic imitation falls short of adding depth or new meaning to Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s verse. This limitation is particularly evident in another couplet of her ghazal, where she merely reiterates the theme of unattainable union:

There is no night when, from your sorrow, my liver does not bleed,
Nor do the tears cease to flow from my eyes’ path.
Each night, hope is kindled by the promise of our union,
Yet that too, by my inverted fortune, remains unfulfilled.
I said, “O friend, the day of our union shall come to pass,”
But what remedy remains, when fate decrees it shall not be?⁸⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 250.

1.1.3

In the middle of a ghazal, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī composes the following two couplets:

My wisdom, intellect, and judgment have all slipped away
What stratagem remains, O Muslims, what stratagem?
You are heedless of us, while we are in restless pursuit
What remedy is there, when fate has thus decreed?⁸¹ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 105.

Jahān Malik Khātūn incorporates one hemistich with minor modification and reproduces the other verbatim:

I was cast into love for him by fate
O Muslims, O Muslims, what remedy remains?
Why is there no sense of self left in love for him?
What remedy is there, when fate has thus decreed?⁸²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 283.

1.1.4.

In another ghazal of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, the following verses appear:

I have fallen amidst the boundless waves of the sea,
I, amidst the boundless waves of the sea, have fallen.

Whoever has a soul is in solitude with their beloved,
See this humiliation, for I have fallen at the threshold.

I am a sacred bird, yet I sit with the earthly ones,
I am a pure gem, yet I have fallen into the dust.⁸³ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 139.

Jahān Malik Khātūn borrows the first hemistich of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s opening couplet verbatim and reiterates the theme and vocabulary of the remaining verses with some modification. For instance, where Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī describes falling in “humiliation” (mazallat) at the threshold, Jahān Malik Khātūn uses the synonym “degradation” (khvārī), stating, “I have fallen in degradation like the dust of the threshold.” Similarly, where Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī refers to the lover as a “pure gem in the dust,” Jahān Malik Khātūn reinterprets the motif in a less exalted manner and more questioning tone:

Since his tresses are disheveled, I have fallen in the world,
With his sorrow close, far from home, I have fallen.
I would have risen to the shore with his union, but from grief,
I have fallen amidst the boundless waves of the sea.
With your union, how can one hope for solitude?
I, who have fallen in degradation, like the dust of the threshold.
If a gem is in the dust, how can it still be a gem?
I have fallen into the dust, in the hope of something akin.⁸⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 332.

1.1.5

The opening couplet of a ghazal by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī is as follows:

How long shall the fire of the heart burn?
My soul’s thread flickers like a candle’s flame.
O gentle breeze, bestow your presence,
That I may scatter my soul like a candle’s light.⁸⁵ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 121.

This theme of burning love, expressed through imagery of fire and light, was widely popular and often explored by poets of the AH 8th/15th century. For instance, Salmān Sāvajī expresses this sentiment:

How long will I speak with you one night?
I will turn the day into a night like the candle’s flame.
I marvel that tonight I may remain until dawn, like the candle’s flame.⁸⁶Salmān Sāvajī, Dīvān, ed.ʿAbbāsʿAlī Vafāʾī (Tehran: Sukhan, 1389/2010), 340.

Hāfiz also composes in a similar vein:

In faithfulness to your love, I am renowned among the beauties, like a candle.
A night-dweller in the alley of the brave and the free-spirited, I burn like a candle.⁸⁷Shams al-Dīn Muhammad Hāfiz, Dīvān, ed. Salīm Nīsārī (Tehran: Sukhan, 1387/2008), 445.

In this context, it appears that Jahān Malik Khātūn, while indebted to both Salmān Sāvajī and Hāfiz, may have drawn particular inspiration from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s imagery. In the following lines, the influence is especially evident:

In the dark night of separation, I am wretched and burning like a candle.
She, like a flower, is smiling, while I am aflame and weeping like a candle.
With a heart full of fire, smoke rises to my head
From the flames of yearning, my soul’s thread burns like a candle.
Speak, and let the sun of beauty rise from the horizon of hope,
That I may scatter my soul before her face like the dawn, like a candle.⁸⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 310.

The couplet most closely resembling the rhyme of jānam (my soul) is found in the verses of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Jahān Malik Khātūn, as cited above. Salmān Sāvajī, using the same rhyme, writes: “There is no one who sympathizes except the enemy of my soul, like a candle.”⁸⁹Sāvajī, Dīvān, 340.  It bears no resemblance or thematic connection to the hemistichs of Jahān Malik Khātūn and Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī. Hāfiz also does not appear to have composed any hemistich with this rhyme.

1.1.6

Two verses from a ghazal by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī are as follows:

I shall reveal this pain that I hold within my soul.
I am a lover of your face; what can I hide from you?
I seek the Friend; why should I fear the blame of foe or friend?
I seek the Kaʿbah; why should I fear the thorns of camelthorn (mughīlān)?⁹⁰ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 141.

The theme of the second verse by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī is famously echoed in the poetry of Hāfiz:

If, in the desert, you take a step out of longing for the Kaʿbah,
Do not grieve if the thorns of camelthorn (mughīlān) cast their blame.⁹¹Hāfiz, Dīvān, 261.

This theme also found resonated with Jahān Malik Khātūn, who, despite profound indebtedness to Hāfiz, composed her own verses within the framework of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s poetic style:

What words can I offer to describe the sorrow that burdens my soul?
Or the grief my heart endures from the separation of my beloved?
Now that I have set foot in the wilderness of your love, O Kaʿbah of my soul,
Why should I fear the thorns of camelthorn (mughīlān)?⁹²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 352.

1.1.7.

Another verse by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī appears to have influenced Jahān Malik Khātūn is as follows:

When I become slain by you, should you pass over my grave,
I shall rise from the earth to seize the hem of your garment.⁹³Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, ed.ʿAlī Rizā Qūjahʹzādah Halānī (PhD diss., Islamic Azad University, Central Tehran Branch, 1393/2014), 430.

Jahān Malik Khātūn, inspired by this imagery, transformed “should you pass over my grave” into “should your footsteps one day fall upon my dust,” and replaced “earth” (khāk, which also means “grave”) with “tomb” (lahad), thereby crafting a verse in the style of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī:

Should your footsteps one day fall upon my dust,
I shall rise from my tomb to seize the hem of your garment.⁹⁴ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 360.

1.1.8

The following two couplets are by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī:

I desire that as long as I live,
You remain the sovereign, and I, your servant.
I, Jalāl, shall die only from the pain of loving you,
If my fortune proves auspicious.⁹⁵ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 156.

The first verse appears to have been inspired by a line in Vīs and Rāmīn by Fakhr al-Dīn Asʿad Gurgānī who wrote:

I know that as long as I live,
I shall remain a servant before your servants.⁹⁶Fakhr al-Dīn Asʿad Gurgānī, Masnavī-i Vīs va Rāmīn, ed. Magali Todua and Alexander Gvakharia (Tehran: Bunyād-i Farhang-i Īrān, 1348/1970), 121. The same verse has also appeared on pages 205 and 228 of Masnavī-i Vīs va Rāmīn.

The first hemistich of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s couplet is identical to the opening line of Gurgānī’s couplet. In one of her ghazals, Jahān Malik Khātūn incorporates a line from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī verbatim. She also includes the second hemistich of Gurgānī’s couplet. Thus, her ghazal contains both a line from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and a line from Gurgānī, preserved without alteration:

If I remain steadfast in your fortune,
I shall remain a servant before your servants.
I shall attain the joy of union with you,
If my fortune proves auspicious.⁹⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 363.

1.1.9

The following verse is the opening couplet of a ghazal by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī:

You do not cast a glance at the sorrowful hearts,
Nor do you slay the pitiful lovers with your cruelty.⁹⁸ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 10.

Jahān Malik Khātūn, with slight modifications to the second hemistich, drew inspiration from this verse:

Do not lay upon your shoulders those musky tresses,
Nor slay the pitiful lovers with the sword of cruelty.⁹⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 16.

1.1.10

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī writes:

I was created for your love; what another task is there in the world?¹⁰⁰ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 143.

Jahān Malik Khātūn, drawing from the same sentiment, adapts the line as follows:

I was created with the pain of your love; among lovers, we were chosen.¹⁰¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 225.

1.1.11

The following verses are selected from one of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazals:

O Beloved, last night you were my companion and confidant.
Whose embrace did you seek, biting your lips through the night?

To whose hand did you entrust your disheveled, tangled locks?
Who was it that dispelled the haze from your hungover head?¹⁰²ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 181.

With your bow-like brows and arrow-like lashes,
O me, your prey—whose prey have you been?

In anguish, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī tore his shirt asunder,
While you, in defiance, remained the remedy for all woes.

This ghazal appears to have been among those particularly cherished by Jahān Malik Khātūn, as its hemistichs, themes, and phrases are incorporated into her own ghazals. In the first hemistich, ay yār (O Beloved) has been replaced with jānā (O Soul), while the remainder of the line is retained. In the following hemistich, shab (through the night) is altered to tā vaqt-i subh’dam (until the break of dawn), while maintaining the rhyme. In the second couplet, dafʿ khumār kih budah-ʾī (who dispelled the haze) is adopted, and in the subsequent two couplets, two hemistichs are nearly replicated verbatim in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry:

O Soul, last night you were my companion and confidant,
Until the break of dawn, whose embrace did you seek?¹⁰³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, MS 1102, date missing, f.39r. This ghazal has not been recorded in the printed edition of the Dīvān.

We are intoxicated by the wine of your love, yet unaware
Tell us, who dispelled the haze from your hungover head?

You made my heart the prey of your tangled locks,
O me, your prey—whose prey have you been?

A hundred shirts I have torn in despair,
While you, in defiance, remain the remedy for all woes.

B) Influence of Refrain, Rhyme, and Shared Themes

1.1.12

 The following couplet by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī presents a powerful metaphor of inner turmoil:

What tumult is this that has suddenly arisen in the world?
What fire is this that has fallen into the essence of the soul?¹⁰⁴ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 92.

 Jahān Malik Khātūn reimagines this imagery with a more personal and emotive tone:

What fire is this, ignited by your countenance, that has engulfed the world?
It has left the soul in doubt of its very existence.¹⁰⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 155.

1.1.13

 Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī expresses his singular devotion through the following lines:

I have no task but the remembrance of your lips.
In your memory, I spend my sweetened life.¹⁰⁶ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 152.

 In contrast, Jahān Malik Khātūn conveys the anguish of separation while maintaining the theme of longing:

Come, for I am restless from the pain of separation.
I can no longer endure this prolonged estrangement.
Will you not ask of my wretched state, how I fare?
How can I spend a lifetime without your presence?¹⁰⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 353.

1.1.14

 Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī reflects on the futility of life without the beloved in the following couplet:

Without your heart-illuminating face, what use is my life?
Before your world-burning ruby lips, how can my soul be accounted?¹⁰⁸ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 97.

Jahān Malik Khātūn, building on this theme, shifts the focus to the necessity of love itself:

What use is a heart that is not filled with pain?
And how can one who has not become a lover be counted among the living?¹⁰⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 253.

1.1.15

 In the following lines, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī contemplates the transience of the worldly realm:

One day, I shall pass from this lower abode,
And then, toward the celestial realm, I shall journey.¹¹⁰ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 130.

Jahān Malik Khātūn, echoing the structure and sentiment, infuses her couplet with a tone of personal longing:

I said, “One night, I shall steal away to my beloved,
And in secret, gaze upon the beauty of her countenance.”¹¹¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 378.

This couplet by Jahān Malik Khātūn also closely resembles a verse by Saʿdī, which shares both theme and phrasing:

Let me pass before your face,
And in secret, behold the beauty of your form.¹¹²Muslih al-Dīn Saʿdī, Dīvān, ed. Muhammad ʿAlī Furūghī (Tehran: Hermes, 1385/2006), 811.

1.1.16

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī opens his ghazal with vivid metaphors comparing the beloved’s features to celestial forms:

O your eyes and lips, together a dream and a vision.
Your face is a full moon, and your brow a crescent.¹¹³ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 185.

Jahān Malik Khātūn similarly uses imagery of the moon and crescent to describe the beloved’s impact on the lover:

We are here, consumed by the sorrow of your love, a mere dream and illusion.
And from the radiance of your moon-like face, my body has become as slender as a crescent.¹¹⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 479.

1.2

Salmān Sāvajī’s Influence on Jahān Malik Khātūn

A) Influence through the Implications of Hemistichs and the Utilization of Themes and Phrases

1.2.1

The opening verse (matlaʿ) of a ghazal by Salmān Sāvajī reads:

You, who draw lines upon me and do not read me,
Like a letter, you fold me upon yourself, not acknowledging me.¹¹⁵Sāvajī, Dīvān, 221.

In the opening couplet of one of her ghazals, Jahān Malik Khātūn directly adopts the second hemistich of Salmān Sāvajī’s verse and pairs it with an original response:

Like a letter, you fold me upon yourself.
How long will you turn me, like a pen, upon the crown of my head?¹¹⁶Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 14.

1.2.2

At the beginning of a qasīdah (ode), Salmān Sāvajī writes:

When the autumn wind is the colorist of the hues,
It seems as though the garden is the workshop of the dyers.¹¹⁷Sāvajī, Dīvān, 48.

Jahān Malik Khātūn echoes this imagery in the opening of one of her ghazals, borrowing the structure and phrasing of Salmān Sāvajī’s second hemistich:

Behold in autumn how beautifully it dyes the vines
It is as if the garden has become a dyer’s workshop.¹¹⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 83.

The thematic and structural ground of this poem, however, does not originate with Salmān Sāvajī. Poets such as Manūchihrī Dāmghānī and Farīd Ahval had previously used similar meter and rhyme. Manūchihrī, in his well-known musammat poem¹¹⁹A musammat is a classical Persian and Arabic poetic form characterized by stanzaic structure and repeated rhyme patterns that differ from the more common ghazal or qasīdah forms. The term literally means “strung” or “beaded,” implying that the verses are linked together in a structured, often decorative way, much like beads on a string.  (“Arise and bring forth silk, for it is the season of autumn…”), includes the following couplet:

See the trembling leaves upon the quivering branches.
It is as if they are like a dyer’s robes.¹²⁰Manūchihrī Dāmghānī, Dīvān, ed. Muhammad Dabīrʹsiyāqī (Tehran: Zavvār, 1385/2006), 153.

As noted by the editor of Manūchihrī’s Dīvān, Rādūyānī, in the Tarjumān al-Balāghah, records the second hemistich as: “It is as if it were a dyer’s workshop.”¹²¹Manūchihrī Dāmghānī, Dīvān, 158.  This phrasing aligns more closely with the versions found in Salmān Sāvajī’s and Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry, indicating that Salmān Sāvajī was familiar with and endorsed this particular formulation.

Farīd Ahval Isfahānī, writing in the AH 7th/13th century, also composed a couplet with a comparable theme and structure:

The color that autumn bestows upon the vines
That color is not mixed by any dyer.¹²²Farīd Isfahānī, Dīvān, ed. Muhsin Kiyānī (Tehran: Anjuman-i Āsār va Mafākhir-i Farhangī, 1381/2002), 34.

Despite these examples, Jahān Malik Khātūn appears to have drawn directly from Salmān Sāvajī’s version, crafting the second hemistich of her opening couplet in deliberate response to his verse. It is possible that she was unaware of the compositions by Manūchihrī and Farīd Ahval.

1.2.3

Salmān Sāvajī, in the opening of another ghazal, writes:

Though your coquetry and cruelty reach their utmost,
God forbid that I should ever complain of you.¹²³Sāvajī, Dīvān, 288.

Jahān Malik Khātūn adopts both the rhyme and refrain of Salmān Sāvajī’s first hemistich, as well as the entire second hemistich, in her own ghazal:

Though your injustice and tyranny reach their utmost,
God forbid that I should ever complain of you.¹²⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 195.

Parvīn Dawlatʹābādī, in her book, Manzūr-i khiradmānd, describes Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poem as an istiqbāl or poetic response to the following ghazal by Hāfiz:¹²⁵Dawlatʹābādī, Manzūr-i khiradmand, 42.

I and the renunciation of wine—what manner of tale is this?
Surely, this much wisdom and sufficiency I possess.

Given the implications of Salmān Sāvajī’s line in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry, the suggestion that her work responds primarily to Hāfiz is inaccurate. In composing her ghazal, Jahān Malik Khātūn clearly had Salmān Sāvajī’s poetry in mind rather than that of Hāfiz.

1.2.4

The first three couplets of a ghazal by Salmān Sāvajī are as follows:

At the head of the alley of my beloved, I wander with my soul
Day and night, in pursuit of my heart, I roam the world.
The sorrow of the age has made me old, but what of it?
If fortune favors me, I shall become young again.
I have glimpsed her radiant beauty, which holds such allure.
Thus, enchanted and intoxicated, I wander in search of her.¹²⁶Sāvajī, Dīvān, 345.

In a ghazal composed in response to Salmān Sāvajī’s poem, Jahān Malik Khātūn offers the following reply:

For a time, in the anguish of your separation, I wander the world.
As a lover, I roam at the door of those with tulip-like cheeks.
All beauty is yours, and mine is this love.
Thus, inevitably, O heart and soul, I seek the sublime.
Though the world has grown old, by the grace of God,
Through the fortune of union with you, I become young again.¹²⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 343.

Both poets wandering the world in pursuit of the sublime. Despite the effects of aging and sorrow, they express hope of reclaiming youth through fortune and the blessing of union.

b) Influence of Refrain, Rhythm, and Shared Poetic Ground:

1.2.5

In one of his verses, Salmān Sāvajī poses the questions:

Will this pain of my heart ever find a cure?
Will the lament of the dawn ever reach its destination?¹²⁸Sāvajī, Dīvān, 286.

Responding to this, Jahān Malik Khātūn reflects:

What if the suffering one finds a cure?
What if the destitute, through union with you, attains solace?¹²⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 191.

1.2.6

Salmān Sāvajī expresses a paradox of love in these lines:

A heart at peace, yet troubled by your love,
A captive so free yet bound within your prison.¹³⁰Sāvajī, Dīvān, 292.

Echoing this sentiment, Jahān Malik Khātūn writes:

No eye exists that is not bewildered by you,
No heart remains that is not imprisoned by you.¹³¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 202.

1.2.7

In describing the pain of separation, Salmān Sāvajī states:

The night of your absence shall never see the dawn of reunion,
What a night it is, where even hope for tomorrow does not exist.¹³²Sāvajī, Dīvān, 257.

Jahān Malik Khātūn responds with an expression of admiration:

My heart cannot endure the radiance of your sun-like face,
For nothing in the world holds a vision more enchanting than that.¹³³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 102.

1.2.8

Salmān Sāvajī celebrates the fulfillment of fate in these lines:

With the ruby of your lips, my fate is fulfilled tonight,
Fortune bows before me, and destiny stands as my servant tonight.¹³⁴Sāvajī, Dīvān, 230.

Building on this theme, Jahān Malik Khātūn writes:

Since both worlds are granted to me through you tonight,
The bird of the night of union is finally caught in the snare.¹³⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 33.

1.2.9

Salmān Sāvajī offers a reflection on the transient nature of life:

O heart, this world is no place of permanence,
Abandon it, for it is nothing but fleeting and unstable.¹³⁶Sāvajī, Dīvān, 514.

In turn, Jahān Malik Khātūn laments:

O heart, what remedy, since the world is ever transient?
There is naught in this age but sorrow and tear-filled eyes.¹³⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 109.

1.2.10

Salmān Sāvajī praises humility despite lofty stature in these lines:

The lofty cypress, whose stature was ever exalted
Before you, it stood forever with hands clasped in humility.¹³⁸Sāvajī, Dīvān, 374.

Jahān Malik Khātūn complements this image with an expression of inner turmoil:

Within my mind, the madness of love has always dwelled,
And within my heart, the tumult of longing forever swelled.¹³⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 449.

1.3

Khvājū Kirmānī’s Influence on Jahān Malik Khātūn

A) Influence through the Implications of Hemistichs and Utilization of Themes and Phrases

1.3.1

In the middle of a ghazal, Khvājū Kirmānī expresses the following:

I became a mere imagination, and wherever I look,
Except for your image, nothing appears to me.¹⁴⁰Khvājū Kirmānī, Dīvān, ed. Ahmad Suhaylī Khvānsārī (Tehran: Pāzhang, 1369/1990), 669.

Jahān Malik Khātūn adopts the second hemistich verbatim in her own poetry:

Except for your image, nothing appears to me,
Without the beloved’s face, my life cannot endure.¹⁴¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 256.

1.3.2

In another ghazal, Khvājū Kirmānī writes:

My heart, unable to find repose in the absence of her beauty’s countenance,
Discovered its solace in the graceful curve of her restless tresses.¹⁴²Kirmānī, Dīvān, 220.

Similarly, Jahān Malik Khātūn draws upon the second line of this verse, with the variation of substituting the word “curve” (kham) with the word “head” (sar):

My heart, having departed, found its repose in the head of that beloved,
Where its tranquility settled amidst her restless tresses.¹⁴³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 139.

1.3.3

In the opening verse of a ghazal, Khvājū Kirmānī poses these questions:

To whom shall I confide the pain of my heart?
From whom shall I seek redress for my heart’s anguish?¹⁴⁴Kirmānī, Dīvān, 460.

This poetic “ground” originates from Anvarī Abīvardī (d. c. 585/1189), who expresses it as follows:

From whom shall I seek the cure for my heart?
To whom shall I tell the tale of my sorrow?¹⁴⁵Anvarī Abīvardī, Dīvān, ed. Muhammad Taqī Mudarris Razavī (Tehran: ʿIlmī va farhangī, 1376/1997), 897.

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī also uses this “ground”:

The pain that is mine—to whom shall I speak of it?
The remedy for my heart—from whom shall I seek it?¹⁴⁶ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 135.

Within this shared thematic and structural “ground,” Jahān Malik Khātūn composed a ghazal with the following opening couplet:

To whom shall I confide the pain of my heart?
From whom shall I seek the cure for my heart’s affliction?¹⁴⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 399.

No other poem in the Dīvāns of Jahān Malik Khātūn and Anvarī Abīvardī definitively proves that Jahān Malik Khātūn studied Anvarī Abīvardī’s Dīvān. However, as demonstrated by her engagement with the poetry of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmānī, responding directly to their verses and demonstrating a clear affinity for their styles, it is likely that she composed this ghazal inspired by their poetry. In this instance, she appears to have borrowed the first hemistich from Khvājū Kirmānī and the second hemistich of the opening verse from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, without direct influence from Anvarī Abīvardī’s poem.

B) Influence through Refrain, Rhythm, and Common “Ground”

1.3.4

 In one of his ghazals, Khvājū Kirmānī presents a metaphorical comparison between the beloved’s features and celestial beauty:

If the moon could be cloaked in armor of musk,
Then to those curls and that cheek, one might compare.¹⁴⁸Kirmānī, Dīvān, 257.

 Jahān Malik Khātūn, though thematically divergent, conveys a similar emotional intensity in the following verse:

O beloved, the sorrow of your love can be forgotten,
Yet nothing but the sorrow of your love can be embraced.¹⁴⁹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 175.

1.3.5

 In another verse, Khvājū Kirmānī reflects on the inescapability of love and fate:

One cannot turn one’s back on the beloved with bow-like brows,
Nor can one shield oneself from the arrows of fate.¹⁵⁰Kirmānī, Dīvān, 660.

Jahān Malik Khātūn responds with a verse that mirrors this sense of helpless devotion:

More than this, you cannot oppress this wretched soul,
Yet despite your cruelty, I cannot abandon my loyalty.¹⁵¹Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 177.

1.3.6

 Khvājū Kirmānī, invoking spiritual imagery, writes:

Send us a fragrance from the gardens of Paradise,
And for the sins of broken hearts, send a cure.¹⁵²Kirmānī, Dīvān, 132.

 Jahān Malik Khātūn echoes the plea for healing but situates it more personally within the experience of separation:

From your grace, send a remedy for the pain in my heart,
O you, deprived of union, send me a melody of reunion.¹⁵³Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 69.

1.3.7

 Khvājū Kirmānī depicts the power of the beloved’s beauty to disturb the soul:

When your hyacinth-like locks cast a chain upon the Judas tree,
They sowed turmoil in the heart of this helpless one.¹⁵⁴Kirmānī, Dīvān, 264.

 In a similarly sorrowful tone, Jahān Malik Khātūn laments the enduring pain of separation:

Once again, the sorrow of separation has inflicted pain upon my soul,
How long can one burden a weary heart with grief?¹⁵⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 158.

1.3.8

 Khvājū Kirmānī emphasizes the hopelessness of unfulfilled longing:

As long as you are not united with us,
Our affairs will find no prosperity.
From your mouth, as I now see,
The fulfillment of my soul’s desire will not be granted.¹⁵⁶Kirmānī, Dīvān, 683.

 Jahān Malik Khātūn expresses a similar resignation:

There will be no cure for our pain,
Nor will the fulfillment of my longing from your lips be granted.¹⁵⁷Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 242.

These poetic engagements likely belong to an early phase in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetic career, during which she refined her craft by emulating the works of established poets. At this stage, her poetry followed pre-existing models to master the forms, techniques, and themes characteristic of the tradition. A later stage in her career is marked by more confident poetic responses, in which she engages other poets in literary dialogue with the intention of surpassing them or asserting her poetic identity. The following section will examine one of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s ghazals that exemplifies this later, more assertive mode of composition.

2. A Ghazal by Jahān Malik Khātūn, Inspired by and Responding to the Poetry of Her Contemporaries

In Javāhir al-ʿajāyib (The jewels of wonders), reference is made to the gatherings hosted by Jahān Malik Khātūn, during which individuals known for their wit and refinement would convene to compose poetry extemporaneously and engage in poetic exchanges.¹⁵⁸Sultān Muhammad Fakhrī Hiravī bin Muhammad Amīrī, Tazkirah-ʾi Rawzat al-salātīn va Javāhir al-ʿajāyib (maʿa Dīvān-i Fakhri Hiravī) [Memoir of the garden of kings and the Jewels of wonders (Along with poetry compendium of Fakhrī Hiravī)], ed. Sayyid Hisām al-Dīn Rāshīdī (Hyderabad: Sindhī Adabī Būrd, 1968), 123.

One particular ghazal with the refrain narasīdīm (“we did not attain”) and rhymes such as darmān (remedy), hayvān (animal), pāyān (end), Sulaymān (Solomon), jānān (beloved), khirāmān (strolling), and sāmān (order), first appears in the Dīvān of Khusraw Dihlavī.¹⁵⁹Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī, Dīvān, ed. Iqbāl Salāh al-Dīn, with an introduction by Muhammad Rawshan (Tehran: Nigāh, 1380/2001), 580.  This same poetic structure and set of rhymes later appear in the Dīvāns of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī,¹⁶⁰ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151. Khvājū Kirmānī,¹⁶¹Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265. and Jahān Malik Khātūn of Shiraz.¹⁶²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.  Within this poetic framework, the influence of contemporary poets on Jahān Malik Khātūn becomes evident, particularly as several verses are common across these poets’ ghazals. Accordingly, it may be suggested that Jahān Malik Khātūn refined her poetic skills by participating in what appears to have been a literary exchange or contest. This exchange was first initiated several decades earlier by Khusraw Dihlavī and continued by other poets across generations.

Among the poets mentioned, only Khusraw Dihlavī originated from outside Shiraz. Jahān Malik Khātūn herself was a native of Shiraz, and both Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmānī spent periods of their lives in Shiraz, where they also composed poetry. Another poet who composed a ghazal using this structure was Shams al-Dīn Qalandar (AH 8th/14th century?), whose poetry survives only in the anthology Latāʾif (Subtleties) and the collection Safīnah-ʾi zarāʾif (The vessel of delicacies). Sayf Jām Hiravī also mentions Shams al-Dīn Qalandar, though only with an incomplete invocatory phrase of blessing (rahmah, mercy).¹⁶³Sayf Jām Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāʾif va safīnah-i zarāʾif [A collection of subtleties and a vessel of delicacies], British Library Manuscript, No. 4110 Or, f. 307v.

There is no doubt that the poetic “ground” established by Khusraw Dihlavī attracted the attention of poets from Shiraz and its surrounding regions. Nevertheless, the notion that all of these poets composed their ghazals during the same period, perhaps encouraged by a poetry-loving patron such as Abū Ishāq Injū, the uncle of Jahān Malik, appears unlikely, particularly in light of the chronological gap separating them from Khusraw Dihlavī. Asīrī Lāhijī,¹⁶⁴Asīrī Lāhijī, Dīvān-i ashʿār va rasāʾil [Book of poems and letters], ed. Barāt Zanjānī (Montreal: Institute of Islamic Studies, McGill University, 1357/1978), 219.  active in the AH 10th/16th century and known for engaging with this same poetic form or “ground” (zamīn), also spent time residing in Shiraz. Given this precedent, it would not be implausible to suggest that Shams al-Dīn Qalandar may likewise have had a connection to Shiraz.

The Rhymes jānān (beloved) and darmān (cure)

The rhyme jānān (beloved) appears in the first hemistich, except in the cases of Khvājū Kirmānī and Jahān Malik Khātūn, and the rhyme darmān (cure) appears in the second hemistich (except in Jahān Malik Khātūn’s verse, where it appears in the first hemistich.

In the Dīvān of Khusraw Dihlavī, the couplet is as follows:

We endured our toil but could not reach the beloved (jānān).
Our hearts were pierced by pain, yet we found no cure (darmān).¹⁶⁵Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī, Dīvān, 580.

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī expresses a similar sentiment:

We gave much of our soul but could not reach the beloved (jānān).
We perished in pain, yet we found no cure (darmān).¹⁶⁶ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.

Khvājū Kirmānī preserves the second hemistich exactly, but makes a slight modification by replacing jānān with sāmān:

We bowed our heads but could not attain order (sāmān).
We perished in pain, yet we found no cure (darmān).¹⁶⁷Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

Jahān Malik Khātūn inverts the structure, placing darmān in the first hemistich and sāmān in the second:

We perished in pain, yet we found no cure (darmān).
We relinquished all yet could not attain order (sāmān).¹⁶⁸Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.

Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar composes a similar verse in these lines:

Our soul grew weary from separation, yet we could not reach the beloved
We perished in this pain, yet we found no cure.¹⁶⁹Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

The hemistich dar dard bimurdīm va bih darmān narasīdīm (We perished in pain but found no remedy) is repeated verbatim in the poetry of Khvājū Kirmānī, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, and Jahān Malik Khātūn, while Shams al-Dīn Qalandar composed a closely related version. Jahān Malik Khātūn uses the phrase in the first hemistich, while Khvājū Kirmānī and Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī employ it in the second.

The rhyme jānān appears in the second hemistich in several examples. In the final couplet attributed to Shams al-Dīn Qalandar, the poet writes:

Upon the dust at the threshold of your abode, like Shams the Qalandar,
We died a thousand deaths, yet the beloved remained afar.¹⁷⁰Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

In the fourth couplet of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s ghazal, the theme continues:

They said, “You will reach your beloved if you let go of yourself.”
We let go of ourselves, but we did not reach the beloved.¹⁷¹ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.  

Khvājū Kirmānī expresses a similar sentiment in his second verse:

They said, “Sacrifice your soul and give yourself away”
We offered our very soul, yet to the beloved we did not arrive.¹⁷²Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

Khusraw Dihlavī echoes the motif in the eighth couplet of his ghazal:

With the ink of our heart’s blood, we wrote the letter of pain for you.
Our entire life passed, yet to the beloved we did not arrive.¹⁷³Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī, Dīvān, 580.

A comparable expression appears in the second couplet of Jahān Malik Khātūn:

Our soul was sacrificed on the path of love’s sorrow.
She took our heart in her hands, yet to the beloved we did not arrive.¹⁷⁴Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.

A closer analysis of the use of the rhyme jānān reveals that Khusraw Dihlavī, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, and Shams al-Dīn Qalandar employ it twice, once in each hemistich. By contrast, Jahān Malik Khātūn and Khvājū Kirmānī use this rhyme only once, and only in the second hemistich. With the exception of Jahān Malik Khātūn, who slightly shifts the thematic focus, Khusraw Dihlavī, Shams al-Dīn Qalandar, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, and Khvājū Kirmānī associate the second-hemistich appearance of jānān with the recurring theme of “sacrificing the soul” and “failing to reach the beloved.” Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī also introduces this very theme in the first hemistich, which renders his use slightly repetitive. The first hemistichs by Khusraw Dihlavī and Shams al-Dīn Qalandar share a common theme: “enduring hardship and exhausting the soul” and “failing to reach the beloved.” The influence of Khusraw Dihlavī, the earliest among these poets, is unmistakable and at times directly imitated by the others.

The Rhyme sāmān (order)

A similar pattern is found with the rhyme sāmān, which appears in the second hemistich in most cases, except in the poetry of Khvājū Kirmānī, who places it in the first. In the first couplet of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s ghazal, the poet writes:

In pain we perished, yet found no remedy.
We let go of ourselves yet found no resolution and order.¹⁷⁵Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.

In the second couplet of Shams al-Dīn Qalandar’s poem, the theme continues:

You said, “You shall attain order if you let go of yourselves.”
We let go of ourselves yet found no resolution and order.¹⁷⁶Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

A similar expression appears in the second couplet of Asīrī Lāhijī’s ghazal:

We ran tirelessly, seeking our desire,
Our very self was lost in pursuit yet found no resolution and order.¹⁷⁷Asīrī Lāhijī, Dīvān-i ashʿār va rasāʾil, 219.

In the first verse of Khvājū Kirmānī’s ghazal, the poet reverses the structure:

We died, yet found no resolution and order,
In pain we perished yet found no remedy.¹⁷⁸Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

The hemistich az sar biguzashtīm va bih sāmān narisīdīm (“we let go of ourselves yet found no resolution and order”) is repeated verbatim by Jahān Malik Khātūn and Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar, indicating that one poet had access to or was influenced by the work of the other. Regarding the first verse of Jahān Malik Khātūn, it has been previously noted that the hemistich dar dard bimurdīm va bih darmān narisīdīm is repeated verbatim in the works of Khvājū Kirmānī, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, and Jahān Malik Khātūn, while Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar also reproduces nearly the same line. Khvājū Kirmānī and Asīrī Lāhijī repeated the rhyme sāmān with the same theme of “letting go of ourselves” and “yet found no resolution and order,” albeit with minor variations that do not alter the core meaning. The phrase bih sar davīdan (“to hasten in obedience”) in Asīrī Lāhijī’s hemistich echoes the rhyme khirāmān in Khvājū Kirmānī’s verse, suggesting that Asīrī Lāhijī may have borrowed from Khvājū Kirmānī’s poetry, transforming khirāmān into sāmān while drawing inspiration from earlier poets. Similarly, Khvājū Kirmānī, in his fifth verse, alters the rhyme but retains the thematic framework of Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar’s verse, as mentioned above:

We set forth to cast our souls upon the arena of Her love
Yet, letting go of the self, we never reached the arena.¹⁷⁹Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

The Rhyme hayvān (Fountain of Life)

Regarding the rhyme hayvān, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s second couplet states:

In the darkness of sorrow, we perished, parched with thirst,
Yet never did we reach the shores of the Fountain of Life.¹⁸⁰ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.  

Khvājū Kirmānī echoes this in his seventh couplet:

In the gloom of separation, we perished, and from his ruby lips,
Never did we taste the waters of the Fountain of Life.¹⁸¹Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

The Rhyme pāyān (end)

The rhyme pāyān emerges in Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s third couplet:

For years we wandered in the desert of love,
Our life reached its end, yet we never reached the end.¹⁸²ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.  

Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar adapts this theme in his fourth couplet:

In the desert of Your love, like one without head or end,
We ran so far, yet we never reached the end.¹⁸³Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

Asīrī Lāhijī continues this formula in his own fourth couplet:

In the desert of Your love, bewildered and lost,
However much we ran, we never reached the end.¹⁸⁴Asīrī Lāhijī, Dīvān-i ashʿār va rasāʾil, 219.

The Rhyme Sulaymān (Solomon):

The theme of Sulaymān appears in Khusraw Dihlavī’s second couplet:

We are ants, trampled under the hooves of riders,
Left in a corner, never reaching the court of Solomon.¹⁸⁵Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī, Dīvān, 580.

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī mirrors this in his sixth couplet:

We are those ants, crushed beneath the feet of riders,
Stranded, never attaining the threshold of Solomon.¹⁸⁶ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.  

In Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar’s third couplet, a similar rhyme unfolds

We are feeble ants, lost on the path of riders,
Stranded, never granted the honor to kneel before Solomon.¹⁸⁷Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

Analysis of the rhyme of Sulaymān indicates that Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar were influenced by Khusraw Dihlavī, directly echoing his themes and structure. As with the earlier rhyme pāyān, Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar shows a closer resemblance to Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī’s verse than to Khusraw Dihlavī’s original, with textual similarities such as the repetition of māndīm (“we remained”) and the substitution of dargāh (threshold) with pābūs (literally, “kissing the feet”, paying homage, devotional visit), reinforcing this observation. Regarding the rhymes hayvān (Fountain of Life), Sulaymān, and pāyān, Jahān Malik Khātūn appears not to have experimented or introduced her own couplets in these forms.

The Rhyme of Khirāmān (graceful)

The sixth couplet of Khusraw Dihlavī’s ghazal expresses the elusive nature of the beloved’s presence, using the rhyme khirāmān:

O breeze, should you convey a greeting, for we
Could not attain the service of that graceful cypress.¹⁸⁸Amīr Khusraw Dihlavī, Dīvān, 580.

Khvājū Kirmānī echoes this yearning in his fourth couplet:

Like a shadow, we swiftly pursued, yet
We could not reach the shade of that graceful cypress.¹⁸⁹Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

In her own poetic response, Jahān Malik Khātūn offers this variation in her fourth couplet:

We beheld the world and wandered far and wide
Yet in your shade, O graceful cypress, we could not arrive.¹⁹⁰Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.

Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, too, evokes this theme in his ninth couplet:

Like Jalāl, we traversed most horizons
Yet like the wind, we could not reach that graceful cypress.¹⁹¹ʿAzud Yazdī, Dīvān, 151.  

Earlier, in the discussion of the rhyme darmān, it was noted that Khvājū Kirmānī, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, and Jahān Malik Khātūn employ identical hemistichs. In the couplet under consideration, their shared influence from Khusraw Dihlavī and his rhyme scheme is again apparent. However, the resemblance of Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry to that of Khvājū Kirmānī on one hand, and to Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī on the other, is particularly noteworthy. The second hemistich of Jahān Malik Khātūn aligns more closely with that of Khvājū Kirmānī, while the first hemistich bears a stronger resemblance to that of Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī. The central theme throughout these verses centers on striving toward, yet failing to reach, the beloved’s graceful cypress (sarv-i khirāmān).

In his second hemistich, Khvājū Kirmānī envisions a shadow for the cypress, an image that also appears in the verse of Jahān Malik Khātūn. Similarly, Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī speaks of traversing the āfāq (horizons) without reaching the beloved’s graceful cypress, while Jahān Malik Khātūn describes wandering the world without attaining the shade of the beloved’s cypress-like stature. In other words, the couplet by Jahān Malik Khātūn may be seen as a synthesis of the verses by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmānī.

It was previously mentioned that a similar phenomenon occurs in another couplet by Jahān Malik Khātūn:

To whom shall I speak of my heart’s pain?
From whom shall I seek a remedy for my heart?¹⁹²Jahān Malik Khātūn, Dīvān, 393.

In that couplet, each line draws inspiration from Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmānī, respectively, reflecting her method of poetic synthesis.

The Rhyme Īmān (Faith):

Using the rhyme īmān, Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar reflects on separation and belief in his fourth couplet:

Your separation is disbelief, and your union is faith
We remained in disbelief and did not attain faith.¹⁹³Hiravī, Majmūʿah-ʾi latāyif, fol. 307v.

Khvājū Kirmānī mirrors this sentiment in his ninth couplet:

By your grace, we donned the sacred thread, and like Khvājū
We remained in disbelief and did not attain faith.¹⁹⁴Kirmānī, Dīvān, 265.

Both Shams al‑Dīn Qalandar and Khvājū Kirmānī employ the hemistich containing the rhyme īmān identically, indicating that one poet copied or closely modeled his verse on the other. Jahān Malik Khātūn, however, does not have a verse using this rhyme. The poets in question clearly had access to one another’s Dīvāns, particularly the poems discussed here, and the poetic “ground” (zamīn) originates with Khusraw Dihlavī. Some of the poets cited reproduce entire verses and hemistichs from his work. Asīrī Lāhījī, writing in the following century, also replicates hemistichs by drawing from the poetry of the aforementioned poets.

As previously mentioned, poets throughout the history of Persian literature often began their poetic careers by imitating and emulating the works of others. In doing so, many followed a model such as the one described above, composing verses in response to earlier poetry in order to compete with contemporaries or to refine preexisting meanings.

As Sayf Jām Hiravī notes in the Jāmiʿ al-Sanāyiʿ, if the imitating poet’s work is of lower quality than the original, it is termed mutābaʿat. None of the poets mentioned here—including Jahān Malik—manage to improve upon the wording or meaning of Khusraw Dihlavī’s poetry. As a result, literary precedence and excellence remain with Khusraw Dihlavī. In such cases, and by following the formal and thematic cues described above, it is possible to compose a ghazal with minimal effort. For instance, the author of the present article, following this model, composed the following ghazal in Khusraw Dihlavī’s poetic “ground” and meter, with little effort and only in a short span of time:

We perished, soul and body, yet did not reach the beloved.
Our hearts, torn from our chests, found no remedy.
In the path of love’s sorrow, we let go of ourselves
We gave our souls to the beloved yet did not reach the beloved.
We ran headlong to the destination of your love
O head, what does it matter if we found no order?
We died from the grief of separation from your ruby lips.
Yet did not reach the spring of life.
In your alley, bewildered and lost, this heart and I
Ran for a lifetime yet did not reach the end.
An ant trampled by the riders’ hooves
We are and did not reach the court of Solomon.
We traversed all horizons like the wind
Yet did not reach the head of the graceful cypress.
In the disbelief of your curled locks, we tied the sacred thread
From that disbelief, we did not reach the summit of faith.

Such mechanical emulation, while illustrative, does not yield profound poetic insight. Instead, it may place the composer among imitators rather than innovators.

Conclusion

The analysis of a poet’s work requires an understanding of the sources that shaped their poetic vision. Like many before her, Jahān Malik Khātūn engaged in imitation, emulation, and poetic dialogue with the work of others, first as a form of artistic apprenticeship, and later as a way to compete with her contemporaries. The Dīvāns of luminaries from Shiraz such as Saʿdī and Hāfiz, along with those of poets who spent time in Shiraz, including Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī and Khvājū Kirmāni, were familiar to her. As a Shīrāzī princess, she found profound inspiration in these masters. Beyond them, the poetry of her near contemporaries such as Khusraw Dihlavī and Salmān Sāvajī also captured her attention, and their influence is clearly reflected in her ghazals. Given her privileged access to the royal library of Abū Ishāq Injū, a devoted patron of poets, it is highly likely that she studied these collections firsthand.

Jahān Malik Khātūn followed a deliberate and patterned approach in composing many of her ghazals. She would begin by selecting a favored ghazal from one or more poets, then replicate most or all of its rhymes, rearranging them to suit her own composition. While preserving the original mood and thematic structure, she would introduce modifications, omitting certain elements, altering syntactic structures, or substituting words with their synonyms. For instance, in the first case examined in this article, she draws from a nine-verse ghazal by Jalāl ʿAzud Yazdī, adopting five of its rhymes and reproducing the corresponding hemistichs with subtle adjustments. As evidenced by other examples, she sometimes uses synonyms or conceptual equivalents in order to create her own poetic voice within a preexisting framework.

Although the presence of a woman poet among the major figures of the AH 8th/14th century Persian literature is a noteworthy phenomenon in itself, Jahān Malik Khātūn’s poetry ultimately remained within the bounds of imitation. Her verse did not attain a distinct stylistic identity, nor did it break free from the influence of the great masters of Persian poetry.