Latife Cheshmeli
The ashiq tradition in Azerbaijan originated during the 15th and 16th centuries from a combination of Turkish epic singing and Islamic mystical poetry from Sufism. The songs performed by ashiqs, which translates to “lover” or “in love”, are typically accompanied by a saz. In some regions ashiqs perform in an ensemble with a balaban and a percussion instrument.
Latife Cheshmeli is a singer and saz player from Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. Her parents forbade her to pursue her goal of becoming a singer, but her husband supported her music career after they were married. Latife’s role as a female ashiq, while not uncommon, is frowned upon by many conservative families who object to their daughters performing in public. Latife is very passionate about her instrument. She considers the saz to be a sad instrument that she can relate to as a sad person herself. She feels that “the sound of the saz is like a mother’s lullaby.” (Levin, Senarslan, and Dordjieva 38)
Latife Cheshmeli is a singer and saz player from Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan. Her parents forbade her to pursue her goal of becoming a singer, but her husband supported her music career after they were married. Latife’s role as a female ashiq, while not uncommon, is frowned upon by many conservative families who object to their daughters performing in public. Latife is very passionate about her instrument. She considers the saz to be a sad instrument that she can relate to as a sad person herself. She feels that “the sound of the saz is like a mother’s lullaby.” (Levin, Senarslan, and Dordjieva 38)
Dila Dushdü
Oh beautiful one, your glances, your glances,
Have become a legend that everybody is
talking about.
The pupils of your eyes sent out a path,
They struck my eyes, my darling, they struck my eyes.
It was a morning that turned into an evening,
an evening.
I understood something deep in my heart.
I was a moth who knowingly fell into the candle
In order to burn, my life, in order to burn.
I am Niyazli the faithful, the faithful,
I am the companion of pain,
the salesman
of sorrow.
My wounds, which have been reopened, oh
my darling.
Now hurt as if they had been struck with a poker,
my life, struck with a poker.
Oh beautiful one, your glances, your glances,
Have become a legend that everybody is
talking about.
The pupils of your eyes sent out a path,
They struck my eyes, my darling, they struck my eyes.
It was a morning that turned into an evening,
an evening.
I understood something deep in my heart.
I was a moth who knowingly fell into the candle
In order to burn, my life, in order to burn.
I am Niyazli the faithful, the faithful,
I am the companion of pain,
the salesman
of sorrow.
My wounds, which have been reopened, oh
my darling.
Now hurt as if they had been struck with a poker,
my life, struck with a poker.