A Brief Overview of Medieval Persian Literature

Reviewing the origins of a particular literary history allows us to better comprehend the allusions the literature conveys and why we appreciate them. It also allows us to anticipate how the literature may progress (Fouchecour, 2006) I will try to keep this approach in the reader’s mind in presenting this brief summary of medieval Persian literature, a daunting task considering the multiplicity and wealth of the texts and documentation on the subject (Fouchecour, 2006). In this study we will pay special attention to the progress of Persian literature over the last millennia, concentrating in particular on the early development and background of various literary genres in Persian. Although the idea of literary genres is rather subjective and unstable (Perkins, 1993, pp. 29-33), studying them is a worthwhile approach for an overview, enabling better understanding, deeper argumentation, and deeper analysis than would a simple listing of dates, titles, and basic biographical facts of the giants of Persian literature.

225-651/823-1249), evolved into Persian, which became the language of early literary landmarks such as Firdawsī's Shāh-nāma and Bal‛amī's translation and adaptation of Ṭabarī's History, and which in turn developed into Modern Persian.
If the Persians played more than just a passive role in Arabic literature, and even in the greater formulation of Islamic traditional culture, this is in great measure because the entire extent, and not merely a part, of the ancient Sāsāniān Empire, with all of its institutions and cultural traditions, fell to the lot of the Arab conquerors. They conquered the Persians but did not do away with the age-old cultural institutions of that people; on the contrary, the Arabs were in their turn conquered, culturally speaking, by the Persians (Danner, 1986).
The Middle Persian language itself survived among populations of Zoroastrians in Persia in the first three centuries after the rise of Islam, and substantial religious texts in Middle Persian survive from this period. But classical Persian poetry relies heavily on tradition and cultural memory, displaying strong connections with the pre-Islamic past in aspects including its meter (attuned to Arabic), its lexis, and major themes (Elwell-Sutton, 1986).
Through a diachronic study of classical Persian poetry we can study the consequence of loanwords and syntactical arrangements from Arabic. Furthermore, as Arabic vocabulary has itself changed significantly through time, it is essential to keep in mind the deviations in norm and the different semantic relations of the same words when used in Persian and Arabic in different historical periods.
An additional factor in the transition of Middle to Modern Persian was the geographical range of this language in the awakening that accompanied the Arab invasion. Following the path of the Arab conquest, Persian spread from its heartlands to Central Asia (Transoxiana). For their conquests, the Arabs enlisted native peoples in their armed forces. These local populations did not speak a consistent Persian and in many cases did not even use Persian among themselves. Nevertheless, the Persian of the time served as a lingua franca for these recruited men. They spread this new version in the occupied provinces, from Azerbaijan to Central Asia, to the detriment of other Iranian languages and other dialects of Persian. Such was the case of Sughdian, a language belonging to an ancient culture that was mainly overwhelmed by Persian. Therefore Persian became, in time, the court language of the first semi-independent Muslim territories, most particularly those established in the Greater Khurāsān (Fouchecour, 2006).
With the arrival of translations and interpretations of the Qurʾān, Persian began to display its flexibility as a language for transmission of religious and spiritual considerations as well as administrative and cultural concerns (Lazard, 1983, p. 382). The geographical growth of the language now followed a new course, from Bukhara to Tabriz, and from Ghazna to Shiraz. For a while the province of Fārs in southern Persia sustained many of the distinct qualities of Middle Persian, while Central Asia, the first Indus, the Turks in turn were won over by Persian culture, while maintaining control of their new states for centuries. After them, Mongol and Mughal patrons nurtured the same customs and explored the same heritage (Riyāḥī, 1990).
If Tamerlane gathered an elite coterie of scientists, artists, and men of letters in Samarqand by force and oppression, his heirs through generous sponsorship shrewdly made the Herat of the fifteenth century a supreme center of the Persian literary world. The prevalent admiration and impact of the ample poetry of ‛Abdu'l Raḥmān Jāmī (d. 894/1492), spreading from Herat to India and into the Near East, is a noteworthy example of this cultural proliferation. Even today, Istanbul remains a treasury of Persian manuscripts (Riyāḥī, 1990). Set between two seas and a gulf, the Iranian highland provided a perfect setting for the exchange of cultures-its own spreading west to the Mesopotamian rivers and east to the Oxus (Āmū Daryā) and the Indus (Fitzherbert, 1996).

The Early Period of Persian Poetry
In Persian literature, the difference between poetry and prose has always been obvious and rather deliberate, with poetry almost always taking precedence. It distinguishes itself from prose not only through rhyme and rhythm but also through the ingenious play between clear connotation and inherent nuance. For Ehsan Yarshater, a fairly extensive prose literature, mainly of narrative, anecdotal, and moralizing kind also flourished, but it is overshadowed by poetry in terms of quality and quantity alike.
In fact, poetry is the art par excellence of Persia, and her salient cultural achievement. Despite their considerable accomplishments in painting, pottery, textiles, and architecture, in no other field have the Persians succeeded in achieving the same degree of eminence (Yarshater, 1988 Also a singer artist and a musician (Rypka, 1968), he stands without a doubt at the summit of the history of Persian poetry (Thackston, 1994 (Nafisī, 1962), serving as a model for later generations (Thackston, 1994).
This testifies to how a great poet created his art at the beginning of the eleventh century. As we have seen, a division of labor was still at work-poet, copyist, and storyteller were three different functions.
Minstrels and wandering musicians in the West followed similar patterns. Arabic poetry began before the arrival of Islam in fifth and sixth centuries, and its first centuries following the rise of Islam have been the subject of abundant debate and investigation. The historical patterns of Persian poetry are quite different.
The Parthians of the pre-Islamic era were minstrels who often performed at traditional events and banquets, telling epic tales and reciting lyric poetry (Boyce, 1957). They offered material and motivation for later works of classical Persian literature such as Vis u Rāmin, the tale of two lovers (Note 1). Some Zoroastrian and Buddhist texts have also survived from the early days of Persian literature (Melikian-Chirvani, 1974 198/810) can be numbered among its most brilliant exponents (Rypka, 1968).
A Persian poem is shaped to delight the eye as well as the ear. Behind the art are rules and skills that already appear to be deeply rooted in the works of Rūdakī. References by Shams-i Qays Rāzī (d. circa 628/1226) (Dihkhudā, Lughat-nāma, 1373, however, suggest that there was a period of less skillful literary production before Rūdakī emerged. At first, the obstacles appeared to be of a practical nature; theory was to follow. In practice, in terms of rhythm, one moved from a pre-Islamic poetry dependent on interchanging strains, seldom returning to the ictus (stress on a syllable in a line of verse), to a poetry based on the variation of long and short syllables, as in Arabic poetry (Fouchecour, 2006). We are better able to reconstitute these moments of change and retrenchment, in which the ancient rhythms were reinterpreted as new rhythms, and doctrines of Arabic rhyme triumphed once the Arabic alphabet was accepted (Lazard, 1983, p. 382 in the early eleventh century, had to present themselves before an audience and prove their worth. The spectators were able to judge the poet's art and technique immediately, and they particularly valued his ability to extemporize in public. Creativity (badiha-sarā'i) could elicit instant appreciation for a great poet such as Farrukhī (d. 429/1027). Art, technique, and improvisation were means through which the poet encountered the expectations of his audience and, drawing on his own erudition to exert his authority, sought to reshape prevailing poetic traditions.

Technical Principles of Persian Poetry
The fundamental unit of a Persian poem is a line of verse comprised of two parts, each containing the same number of syllables and set to the same rhythm. In keeping with Arabic poetry, this distich form is called a bayt (couplet), with the long and short syllables arranged according to set structures. The principles of these patterns are also borrowed from Arabic, though we must bear in mind that the great Persian meters are not very common in Arabic and are most likely modified from ancient Persian stress systems. Such is the case of the quatrain, the rubā‛ī, so typical of Persian and known before Islam (Elwell-Sutton, 1986). It is also the case for the mutaqārib, a reinterpretation of a stressed rhythm found in Middle Persian and the meter used for many famous long narrative poems in Persian, including Firdawsī's Shāh nāma. The specific use of this meter and some others is in itself a perfect illustration of the way literary genres existed and differed markedly from each other in their use of meters. The splendor of a Persian poem, however, also lies in its public oration (a fairly fresh and significant area for research), where many other factors interfere. Sequentially, rhyme is needed for the poetic effect of a Persian poem.
It was the imitation of Arabic poetry that led to its extensive use. A simple voiced refrain at first, it soon became more difficult and organized.
In Persian poetry, the arrangement of rhymes defines the poem's form. A form is considered to be classical when both parts of the first bayt rhyme. The most common and simple poem consists of two bayts (the quatrain), the second of which must rhyme with the first. Usually the first bayt (or distich) of the entire poem conveys the rhyme, its two hemistiches rhyming with each other (Fouchecour, 2006).
The mathnawī is a form of unusual meter whose every hemistich rhymes with its matching part and whose rhyme changes with each line. It is consequently free from the limitations of monorhyme and flexible enough to be used in long poems. In contrast, in the ghazal, also in a special meter, all the bayts rhyme, and ghazals are, in contrast to mathnawīs, rather short. The qaṣida, an older and more advanced form than the ghazal, bears a resemblance to the latter in form. It is also in monorhyme but can conform significantly in length and generally includes three separate thematic portions. We should note that the qaṣida, the ghazal, and the quatrain were the three forms on which Persian medieval handbooks dealing with eloquence, prosody, and poetic descriptions focused (frequently echoing Arabic manuals), and quotations from them were the center of examination, giving them an advantaged place relative to other vital forms, most particularly that of the mathnawī and its diverse subject matter, which received rather less consideration in the earlier works on poetry (Schimmel, 1992).  (Simidchieva, 2003).
For Kāshifī and the tradition before him, the perfection of a poem lies in the notion of tafwif (allegorical alliteration) (Note 2), not the usual aporia (Note 3) used as a rhetorical device in literature. "The importance of literature … lies in its power to extend boundaries by destroying conventional frames of reality, revealing thereby their historically transient nature. Great literary texts, with or without the awareness of their authors, always deconstruct their apparent message by introducing an aporia (undecidable) which the constructive reading must unravel" (Preminger, 1993). The poet should be able to effortlessly intertwine and bring together all the needed rudiments in a poem-rhyme, rhythm, words, expression, and meaning-so that they produce a cohesive body. In short, in its melodious structure a poem should look like a stunning tapestry. To Shams-i Qays's requirements, Kāshifī adds that a flawless poem must be covered with exquisite stones (the literary figure of tarṣi‛) (Yarshater, 1988), suggesting that the words of the poem should be in total harmony in their rhyme and concluding letters. This literary figure would be at its most perfect if the words echoed each other in their consonants and vowels, all the while differing in meaning (the poetic figure of tajnis-i tāmm) (Subtelny, 2011). In total, the talented poet's palette includes ninety-five rhetorical figures. In the list of rudiments most appreciated by our scholars, we find, in order of precedence in their treatises, letters, then words followed by phrases, and lastly the poem perceived as a whole. The other foremost concern is the script itself. The key role of calligraphy, including the shape of the letters, is evident and much debated throughout the handbooks on poetry.
The examination of thematic genres in Persian poetry requires further study, given the riches of the material and the numerous allusions in traditional manuals and anthologies. Waṭwāṭ and Kāshifī, for example, refer to "collective discourse" (kalām-i jāmiʽ), a moral analysis of the variations of life, a poem consisting of encouragement, counsel, or grievance against fate and the flow of events, and a narration of notable events in different periods (Subtelny, 2011, p. 146;Fouchecour, 2006).

Pedagogic Facets of Persian Literature
Few Persian texts fail to offer some sort of advice. Some do so openly as their explicit purpose. Others express their moral indirectly through tales. This is mainly true of historical works. They infuse the events with meaning and importance, submit codes of social and moral behavior, and endeavor to create a sense of collective compromise based on their principles.
The art of rhetoric is the art of inducement, which is why it is allied to the art of poesy, as in Persian literature. The beauty of these writings has bewitched many generations and interested them in the didactic messages the works transmit. The communicative power of these interpretations (ḥikāyat, qiṣṣa, tale, fable, and romance) first amuses readers, then stimulates their aspiration to learn, and ultimately influences their views, moods, spirits, and personalities. The message conveyed may be firmly ethical or have to do with honor or politics. It may even be divine in nature. The shortest and most common form of story is the ḥikāyat, a narrative to be told. Its fruit is an exemplum, drawn from experience and expressed in such a way that it can simply be engraved in memory. The exemplum is entrenched in the discourse or the tale of the behavior of one or more characters in a story. as a collection presenting some of the best models of stories from Persian sources and background.
Another kind of anthology provided a more thoughtful educational outline to a selection of narratives.
Jalāl-al-Din Rumi (d. 675/1273) believed that "speech that rises from the soul, veils the soul" (Lewis, 2000 an overall frame story, other shorter stories are organized. This is the case with some of the famous Persian Mirrors for Princes. One may cite the pattern of three renowned works composed as Jawāmaʽ al-ḥikāyat. The Thousand Tales (Hizār afsān), which has not survived but was celebrated by the tenth-century Arab intellectual Ibn al-Nadim (d. c 397/995), (Nicholson, 1907;Nicolson, 1934) had the same frame story as the Thousand and One Nights. "Kalila va Dimna" is the title of the first story in a very dated compilation of lengthy stories of Indian derivation. The script was changed into Middle Persian at the court of Khawsru Parviz and then translated into Arabic and Persian (Blois, 1990). It is not a frame story, but its educational insertion offers a clear harmony. Each story deals with a theme intended to instruct the prince and his patrons. Finally, Dāstān-i Samak-i ‛ayyār (The Tale of Samak the Gallant-Trickster) is an old Persian tale.
Committed to writing from the twelfth century onward, it preserves its oral structure, a very long account divided into fairly free and divisible parts. Indeed, it is a difficult twin story-the tale of a prince and of Samak, the leader of a group of young men unified by pact of loyalty. It has its roots in an old institution (school) harking back to the Sāsāniān period (Zakeri, 1993).
In The ultimate legacy of these saints was to build a language of morals in Persian that would stimulate subsequent cohorts and give them a vehicle for further allegory. Later, in the fourteenth century, a period of political mayhem, the satirical work of ‛Ubayd-i Zākānī (702/1300-773/1371) depicted a morality turned immoral, ridiculing society in a way that would have seemed distorted to earlier generations (Browne, 1909). Here is one such example of his poetry: Kings to gain a single object oft will slay a hundred souls.

The Impact of Sufism on Persian Literature
The standardization of mystical language and the increasingly overt use of allegory became distinctive features of mystical poetry, in particular during the fourteenth century (Bruijn, 1997). Sufism played a key part in the Islamization of the Persian world. The literary appearance of its principle matched its didactic attitude, which involved introducing, then guiding its audience on the mystical path. Its sacred strength encouraged monumental works in Persian literature. Sufism pursued the excellence and perfection of the soul. Moving from austerity to asceticism, it promoted the path of love. It impelled its observers to reach beyond themselves, teaching them to know the true self. Sufism could also lead to a form of elated spirituality. Literary works followed to guide the explorer along the path. One must recall here that two schools of Greek philosophy, Stoicism and Neoplatonism, had a great impact on the development of the three monotheistic traditions.
Basically, Sufism is an affiliation between an Elder/Master and his devotee, between the Beloved as the heralding spirit and the Lover as the pursuer. A number of Sufi movements were shaped on the foundation of this association after the thirteenth century. abstinence. This malāmatī (blameworthy) movement significantly swayed Persian Sufism and its literary creation. The poetry of Ḥāfiẓ, who in fact was not a Sufi, can be interpreted from this viewpoint. Many modern critics (including Muṭahharī and Purjawādī), although not necessarily viewing Ḥāfiẓ as a follower of a Sufi order, perceive him as a mystic ʽārif (gnostic) (Note 8). Therefore, his accounts of wine, sin, and music, as well as his references to desire and pleasure, are read as unvaryingly metaphorical, even mystical. Allusions to sin and erotic pleasure in his work are seen to be part of a sumptuous code of symbols (Note 9). In this view, Ḥāfiẓ's character as a rind (an inspired libertine) and his revolt against religious authorities, including Sufis, are symbols of malāmatī trends in Sufism (Lewis, 2000, pp. 483-491).
The Kirrāmī movement encountered resistance and was eventually defeated because of its political associations (Shafīʽī-Kadkanī, 1350/1971. In this early period of Sufism's spread appeared a great and lonely, though often-visited, master, Bāyazid Bastāmī (d. 276/874). He left behind a legacy of adages in Persian that continue to resonate. In them one senses an Indian inspiration and the greatly advanced awareness of one who has reached union with God.

The Summit of Classical Persian Literature
Jalāl-al-Din Rumi (1207-73) (Halman, 1988, p. 190) and Sa‛dī (c. 1209-91) (Schimmel, 1988, pp. 214-216). With Saʽdī, an apparently natural but carefully hewn style, influenced by Arabic but firmly rooted in the everyday Persian of the time, served as an exemplarily simple aesthetic technique for ensuing generations. Similar to Niẓāmī, Saʽdī believed in the power of discourse and the significance of language. His work in many ways summed up the cultural attainments of the preceding three centuries (Schimmel, 1988, pp. 214-216).
Sa‛dī's work encompasses numerous subjective allusions and factual details. Nonetheless, here as elsewhere, one must distinguish between the man and the literary facade presented by the writer. This persona (Sa‛dī) would have visited the entire Islamic world, from North Africa to India. Sa‛dī was educated in Baghdad, made the pilgrimage to Mecca, and met important spiritual masters (Zarrinkūb, 1379(Zarrinkūb, /2000. Wisely, he returned to Shiraz at the beginning of the Mongol invasion in 658/1256; and two years later he dedicated the Bustān and then the Gulistān (unquestionably the fruit of many years' hard work) to Abu Bakr b. Sa‛d, the Salghūrid ruler. We sense Sa‛dī's understanding of the everyday lives of the people of Shiraz, associating with the court and its patrons, and maintaining links with spiritual movements in the capital. More conventional in style than the Gulistān, the Bustān consists of extended informative and educational poems in nine chapters, dealing throughout with the fairness and caring deeds of the prince, with worldly and divine love, arrogance, recognition of fate as determined by wisdom, teaching, recognition, and penitence (Thackston, 1994, p. 47). But all this is cast in an ocean of tales expressed in stunning dialect (Katouzian, 1358(Katouzian, /1979. The Gulistān elegantly delivers teachings in the form of sessions. Transcribed chiefly in prose, these are narratives taken from daily life that elucidate a lesson refined in a couple of beautifully composed verses (Note 10). For Sa‛dī two characters prevail in society: the king and the dervish. They signify the foundations of society: political authority and religious associations. Traditional Iranian thought opposed the Greek vision of the prince-philosopher but later adapted it with the stipulation that no prince can act perceptively without a counsellor. This became the political validation for Persian literature itself, as it revealed its own capabilities as just such a mentor (Fouchecour, 2006, p. 70).