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The ghazal is composed of a minimum of five couplets—and typically no more than fifteen—that are structurally, thematically, and emotionally autonomous. Each line of the poem must be of the same length, though meter is not imposed in English. The first couplet introduces a scheme, made up of a rhyme followed by a refrain. Subsequent couplets pick up the same scheme in the second line only, repeating the refrain and rhyming the second line with both lines of the first stanza. The final couplet usually includes the poet’s signature, referring to the author in the first or third person, and frequently including the poet’s own name or a derivation of its meaning. Traditionally invoking melancholy, love, longing, and metaphysical questions, ghazals are often sung by Iranian, Indian, and Pakistani musicians. The form has roots in seventh-century Arabia, and gained prominence in the thirteenth- and fourteenth-century thanks to such Persian poets as Rumi and Hafiz. In the eighteenth-century, the ghazal was used by poets writing in Urdu, a mix of the medieval languages of Northern India, including Persian. Among these poets, Ghalib is the recognized master. Other languages that adopted the ghazal include Hindi, Pashto, Turkish, and Hebrew. The German poet and philosopher Goethe experimented with the form, as did the Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca. http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetic-form-ghazal A ghazal in English that observes the traditional restrictions of the form:     Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell tonight?     Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?     Those “Fabrics of Cashmere—” “to make Me beautiful—”     “Trinket”— to gem– “Me to adorn– How– tell”— tonight?     I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates–     A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.     God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar–     All the archangels– their wings frozen– fell tonight.     Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken     Only we can convert the infidel tonight.     Mughal ceilings, let your mirrored convexities     multiply me at once under your spell tonight.     He’s freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.     He’s left open– for God– the doors of Hell tonight.     In the heart’s veined temple, all statues have been smashed     No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight     God, limit these punishments, there’s still Judgment Day–     I’m a mere sinner, I’m no infidel tonight.     Executioners near the woman at the window.     Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.     The hunt is over, and I hear the Call to Prayer     fade into that of the wounded gazelle tonight.     My rivals for your love– you’ve invited them all?     This is mere insult, this is no farewell tonight.     And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee–     God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.     —Agha Shahid Ali http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghazal