Sart is a name for the settled inhabitants of Central Asia and the Middle East, which has had shifting meanings over the centuries. Sarts, known sometimes as Ak-Sart in ancient times, did not have any particular ethnic identification, and were usually (though not always) town-dwellers. Since the 16th century and onward Mughal historians referred to the Tajiks of the Kabulistan (now Afghanistan) and surrounding regions as Sarts.
There are several theories about the origin of the term. It may be derived from the Sanskrit "sarthavaha" (merchant, caravan leader), a term supposedly used by nomads to described settled townspeople. Or it may be a corruption of the Sogdian ethnonym "Soghd."
The earliest known use of the term is in the Turkic text Kutadgu Bilig ("Blessed Knowledge"), dated 1070, in which it refers to the settled population of Kashgaria. In that period the term apparently referred to all settled Muslims of Central Asia, regardless of language.
Rashid-al-Din Hamadani in the Jami' al-Tawarikh writes that Genghis Khan commanded that Arslan Khan, prince of the Muslim Turkic Karluks, be given the title "Sartaqtai", which he considered to be synonymous with "Tajik" (It is possible, however, that Rashid al-din, who was Persian, misunderstood the meaning of this, as "Sartaqtai" was the name of one of the Genghis Khan's sons).
Sart is the third album by Norwegian saxophonist Jan Garbarek, his second released on the ECM label, and is performed by Garbarek's quintet featuring Bobo Stenson, Terje Rypdal, Arild Andersen and Jon Christensen.
The Allmusic review by Brian Olewnick awards the album 4 stars and states "A strong recording and, along with all of the other early ECM Garbarek releases, recommended for fans who came upon him much later in his career".
All compositions by Jan Garbarek except as indicated
Sart is a name for the settled inhabitants of Central Asia. It may also refer to:
SART may refer to:
The maiden sitting by her pool
Was first to hear my pleas
As she looked into the water
She recited these words to me:
Walk not down that road
I can not tell you where it goes
Ask me no more questions
Some things you weren't meant to know
The mother toiling in the fields
Her apron full of seeds
As she dropped them to the earth
She recited these words to me:
Walk not down that road
I can not tell you where it goes
Ask me no more questions
Some things you weren't meant to know
The greater mysteries
Cannot be shown
Divided by three
The are the maiden, the mother, the crone
Finally I found the crone
Walking through the trees
She looked in my eyes
As she recited these words to me:
Go before the maiden
Get down on your knees
Should you win her favor
She may tell you what she sees
The harvest is reaped
Seeds are shown
Multiplied by three