Introduction

Maymanat Zulqadr (Mīrsādiqī) (b. 1316/1937) is a prominent and well-known contemporary poet. For a period in her career, she published her poems under the pseudonyms ‘Āzādah’ and ‘Ānāhīt.’¹The author wishes to express gratitude to Maymanat Mīrsādiqī for her insightful comments on this article. Her notes have been incorporated into the footnotes. Maymanat began composing poems in her youth and published them in Iranian magazines such as ꜥIlm va zindigī, Sukhan, Sipīd va Siyāh, Rushanfikr, and Chīstā starting in 1333/1954. Among her early works, her ghazals, chahārʹpārahs (quatrains), and nīmāʾī poems are particularly notable. By skillfully blending elements of both modern and classical poetry, she maintained a balanced approach that respects both poetic traditions. In addition to composing ghazals and chahārʹpārah, which are forms of the classical style, she also engaged in the modern style of poetry (nīmāʾī). Her meeting with both Shahryār and Nīmā Yūshīj in the spring of 1335/1956 also indicates her moderate approach to poetry.

This examination of the evolution and changes in Maymanat’s poetry from the age of 15 to the present, spanning seventy years, also encompasses a broader study of modern Iranian poetry. Throughout these years, she never ceased to compose poetry, and the study of her works shows her dynamism and consistency in this journey, which began around 1332/1953 during a time of significant political crisis in Iran. Her father, Habīballāh Zulqadr (1289–1367/1910–1988) was a Shirazi veteran writer, journalist, poet, and advocate of Muhammad Musaddiq (1261–1345/1882–1967). Due to his political affiliations, he was detained several times. Maymanat grew up in a household where the primary concern was the political issues of the day, which is reflected in her early poetry that shows social and political tendencies influenced by the turbulent political atmosphere of Iranian society at the time. To better understand her character and the period in which she spent her youth, it is necessary to look at her father’s life.

Habīballāh Zulqadr (Tābnāk) was born into a literary and poetic family in Istahbān, Fārs province. He was interested in poetry from his youth and mostly composed patriotic poems. In 1323/1944, he began his career as a journalist and was editor-in-chief of newspapers such as Jahānʹnamā, Shabīkhūn, and Hingāmah-yi Imrūz. In her introduction to her father’s poetry collection, Maymanat states:

His childhood coincided with the tumultuous period of the post-constitutional era. Muhammad-ꜥAlī Shāh’s stance towards the constitutionalists, the outbreak of the World War I, and the establishment of foreign troops in Iran, all contributed to a public reaction in a society that was newly acquainted with the ideas of liberty and independence. Many newspapers published during those years had captivated his attention, as he was enthusiastic about liberty and freedom. His love of journalism lasted until the end of his life. In this regard, he was particularly fascinated by Mīrzā Jahāngīr Khān Shīrāzī, a courageous and freedom-loving journalist who launched the newspaper Sūr-i Isrāfīl, alongside ꜥAlī-Akbar Dihkhudā, in support of the Constitutional movement. Jahāngīr Khān was executed by the order of Muhammad-ꜥAlī Shāh in 1287/1908.²Maymanat further writes about her father: “Throughout his life, whether in Shiraz or Tehran, a photograph of Mīrzā Jahāngīr Khān was always hung on the wall of his room. He kept this photograph in his room for many years, from youth to old age. It was clearly a result of his genuine and enduring affection for Mīrzā Jahāngīr Khān Shīrāzī, rather than merely youthful emotions or the influence of the atmosphere of a particular period. This enduring attachment was rooted in his sincere belief.” See Habīballāh Zulqadr, Tā barāyad āftāb, barguzīdah-i ashꜥār-i Habīballāh Zulqadr “Tābnāk” (n.p.: Bahār Books, 2017), 12.

Habīballāh had two role models in his life: Mīrzā Jahāngīr Khān Shīrāzī in journalism and Muhammad Musaddiq in sociopolitical ideas. Musaddiq was like a mentor to Habīballāh, who composed several poems praising him. In one of his short qasīdahs written during Musaddiq’s imprisonment after the Coup, Habīballāh referred to Musaddiq as “Khizr the Savior” and “Joseph the Egyptian” and “the country’s beloved”:

Oh! Joseph the Egyptian, country’s beloved, Khizr the Savior,

I ask but one thing in my prayers: to see you released,

I finish with Hafiz’s lines,

“What a pity,” he laments, “that a bird like you should be caged.”

Habīballāh Zulqadr played an active role in the oil nationalization movement. He was imprisoned several times but never abandoned his political struggle. As a result, he became known as “the poet of the National Front,” and in Farvardīn 1343/April 1964, he was officially appointed as a member of the National Front Council. In his poetry and articles, Zulqadr always supported the rights of the Iranian people and opposed imperialism and dictatorship in Iran. In the conclusion of his book Suꜥūd-i Muhammad Rizā Shāh bih qudrat (The rise of Muhammad Reza Shah to power),³Shams al-Dīn Amīr ‎ꜥ‎Alāʾī, Su‎ꜥūd-i Muhammad Rizā Shāh bih qudrat (Tehran: Dihkhudā, 1361/1982), 416. Shams al-Dīn Amīr-‎ꜥ‎Alāʾī (Musaddiq’s interior minister) referred to Zulqadr as “the national poet” and cited the following poem:⁴Zulqadr, Tā barāyad āftāb, 105–6.

In a world devoid of freedom,

happiness eludes those who are bound,

Only with freedom does the world flourish,

Paradise knows no prosperity without freedom,

What remains is but a dark, silent cemetery,

If people are denied freedom.

That place is either a sanctuary of solitude or a tomb for the dead,

For those innocent souls who lack courage.

Did you witness the fall of the dictator’s wicked fortress?

It crumbled, for a house of straw has no true foundation,

The rust of despotism blackens the essence of talent,

Fortune grants no value to the steel blade in battle,

The heart of autocracy brims with false happiness,

The light of thought finds no guiding path,

The sweet syrup of freedom from the chalice of martyrdom,

Who can taste it without love in their heart?

Democracy never yields to autocracy,

For freedom finds no place within autocratic grasp,

Tābnāk is inspired by the freedom lovers,

On the path of knowledge, his only guide is freedom itself.

Within Zulqadr’s poems, readers can sense a deep love for his homeland and a strong sense of patriotism. In every qasīdah, he expresses his yearning for liberty, which he believes is a shared aspiration among all Iranians. The themes that are prominent in his poetry, particularly Iran’s liberty and independence, echo the concerns of Constitutionalist poets like Bahār and Dihkhudā. He fervently opposed foreign presence in Iran, attacking British and Russian imperialism and demanding their withdrawal from the country. Among his works, a selection of his poetry was published in 2017 in the United States under the auspices of his family, titled Tā āftāb barāyad (Until the Sun rises).

Maymanat’s Poetry Collections

Maymanat’s first poetry collection, titled Bīdārī-yi jūybārān, was published in 1347/1968 and includes poems she composed during the 1340s/1960s. This was followed by Bā ābʹhā va āyinahʹhā (With the waters and the mirrors), published in March 1356/1978, which features her works from the late 1340s/1960s and 1350s/1970s. Her subsequent collection, Jānʹhā-yi āftābī (Sunny lives), was first published in 1371/1992, with a second edition released in 1379/2000. This collection includes her poetry from the 1360s/1980s. In 2010, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān (Under the most cold-blooded snow of the world), featuring her poetry from the 1370s/1990s and 1380s/2000s, was published by Murvārīd Publications in Tehran. The latest collection of Maymanat’s poetry, which contains her works from the beginning to the present, was published in 1402/2023 and is titled Favvārah zīr-i bārān. In this collection, Maymanat reorganizes her four poetry volumes; adds two new volumes, Na yak sitārah, na yak māh (Neither a star, nor a moon) and Pīsh az ān khvāb-i zimistānī (Before that winter sleep); and a seventh volume, Az shi‎ꜥr guftan (On writing poetry), which includes her writings on poetry. Some of her previous poems were omitted from this edition, while others are published in revised versions. The dates of composition, which were not provided in previous editions, are recorded in this new edition, opening a path for studying her poetry from a historical perspective.

Her festschrift, titled Tasvīr-i yak darīchah-yi rawshan (The image of a bright window) after one of her most beautiful poems, was published in 1402/2023. Maryam Mīrshamsī and two of her colleagues worked to compile a set of articles on Maymanat’s poetry in this collection, many of which were written specifically for this volume and published for the first time. This volume also includes poems and stories dedicated to Maymanat, as well as examples of her neoclassical poems from the 1330s/1950s and 1340s/1960s that were published in various tazkirahs (biographical anthologies of poets).

This article is based on Favvārah zīr-i bārān, Maymanat’s most recent collection of poetry. In addition, her traditional and neoclassical poetry from the 1330s/1950s and 1340s/1960s, which are not included in her published collections, are also discussed here, in order to trace the evolution of her intellectual trends.

Committed Poetry During the Pre-Revolutionary revolutionary Period

Committed literature was a central topic of discussion in modern Persian literature from the 1330s/1950s to the 1350s/1970s. During this period, in the Iranian intellectual community, a committed artist was considered a true artist. Commitment in art directly confronts social and political issues, resulting in works that boldly critique the ruling regime. At the First Congress of Iranian Writers in 1325/1946, attended by many significant literary figures, participants expressed their views on freedom and social ideals. For instance, Parvīz Nātil Khānlarī (1292–1369/1914–1990) addressed the attendees of the Congress, stating: “Your primary task is to advocate for freedom, which is the vital essence of artistic talent and thought.”⁵For a detailed discussion, see Mohammad-Reza Ghanoonparvar, The Prophets of Doom: Literature as a Socio-political Phenomenon in Modern Iran (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1984), 153. Other speakers also emphasized the social mission of artists and intellectuals.

In this period, committed literature emerged as a literary genre that advocated for justice, equality, and freedom. In The Politics of Writing in Iran, Kamran Talattof classified modern Persian literature based on episodic literary movements. He identified a specific timeframe in modern Persian literature characterized by a commitment to social and political issues, beginning with the 1332/1953 Coup in Iran and extending to the Revolution of 1357/1979, but after the Revolution, this movement weakened and moved towards decline.⁶Kamran Talattof, The Politics of Writing in Iran: A History of Modern Persian Literature (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2000), 5. Talattof says of the committed literature of pre-revolutionary Iran that “The figurative expression of these issues and the glorification of heroism and martyrdom were the constitutive elements of the language system in most fiction and poetry.”⁷Talattof, The Politics of Writing in Iran, 67.

In the introduction to his book Talā dar mis (Gold in copper, 1344/1965), Rizā Barāhanī (1314–1401/1935–2022), one of the most prominent literary critics in Iran, outlines four responsibilities of poets, which encapsulate the core ideas of literary critics of his time about committed poetry: historical responsibility, geographical responsibility, literary responsibility, and social responsibility. These can be summarized as follows:

Firstly, the poet’s historical and temporal responsibility: The poet must understand the era of human history and the society in which they live, as well as what their people expect from them during their lifetime. Secondly, the poet’s geographical and environmental responsibility: The poet must be deeply attuned to the elements that shape their life in their environment. Is their mind a mirror that reflects the mirages of a desert, or a crystal that reveals a vibrant, colorful forest and a roaring sea? In essence, the poet must understand the country they live in and how their specific region relates to other parts of the world. Thirdly, the poet’s social responsibility: The poet’s understanding of their society should be based on sincerity, clarity, and contemplation […] The poet should embrace the principles of freedom, oppose tyranny, bullying, and deceit, and refrain from confining humanity to restrictive doctrines, whether socially or theoretically. Fourthly, the poet’s literary responsibility towards both the history of world literature and that of their own nation. The poet must faithfully manifest the true expressions of their generation through both literary form and content. Following this goal, the poet should welcome any necessary transformations in their poetry, striving for its ongoing enhancement. The poet should incorporate any themes they consider essential for their society into their work, without reservation.⁸Rizā Barāhanī, Talā dar mis (Tehran: Chihr, 1344/1965), 77–79.

Approaching Maymanat’s poetry according to these principles demonstrates that she is a committed Iranian poet. Examining her work from an ideological perspective shows how her poetry serves as a means of advocating for society, particularly for subaltern groups. This article focuses on her poems with political themes; as this is the first time Maymanat’s poetry has been analyzed through a political lens, this article aims to reveal this understudied dimension of her work, which has been overlooked by literary critics.

Maymanat’s poetry collections, like those of other poets, contain personal poems that capture her various life experiences and moments of inspiration. I have categorized Maymanat’s poetic themes using different colours for each theme. This article focuses on her red poetry book, which features poems that reflect the turbulent political period in Iran and the involvement of Maymanat and her family in those events, as well as poems from the Iran-Iraq War years that express her anti-war stance. Another of her poetry books, with a yellow cover, contains her social poems that focus on marginalized people and labourers. A romantic quality pervades this collection of her poems that address poverty and hardship, provide critiques of urban life, and express a longing for rural escapades. A book with a green cover includes poems that articulate her philosophical reflections on life, femininity, humanity, and the nature of kindness. These poems express her personal feelings and emotions that arise on various occasions, from contemplating motherhood to expressing a grandmother’s feelings towards her grandchildren. Maymanat’s feminine perspective is more prominently revealed in this volume of poetry than in her other works. Finally, a book with a white cover focuses on poetry itself, exploring its essence as well as how it took shape and inspired the poet’s language and thoughts.

Maymanat, Revolutionary Literature, and the Pre-Revolutionary Committed Literary Movement in Iran

Since childhood, Maymanat had been fascinated by poetry. Her father read ꜥAbbās Yamīnī Sharīf’s poems, which were published in the journal Bāzī-i kūdakān (Children’s play), to her,⁹Murtizā Kākhī, Rawshan-tar az khāmūshī (Tehran: Āgāh, 1369/1990), 743. and initially sent her adolescent poems to journals for publication. During a period marked by the coup of Mordād 28, 1332/August 19, 1953⸺one of the most significant events in Iranian history⸺many important poets of the era composed fervent political poems in response to this tragic event. In this context, Maymanat, a young poet encouraged by her father, also penned passionate verses responding to the coup and its consequences, such as her first revolutionary nīmāʾī poem, published in the magazine ꜥIlm va Zindigī. This poem, titled Dar pīshgāh-i mām-i vatan (In the presence of the motherland), was composed in Tīr 1333/July 1954 under the pseudonym ‘Ānāhīt.’ Maymanat’s father submitted this poem to the editors of ꜥIlm va Zindigī, who were supporters of Musaddiq; some of the editors were friends of his.¹⁰Quoted from the notes of Maymanat Mīrsādiqī in response to the author’s questions. The editorial board at the time was led by Khalīl Malikī (1280–1348/1901–1969), a contemporary politician and a member of the Fifty-Three Group. Despite disagreeing with Musaddiq on many issues, Malikī remained one of his close allies until the end of his time in office. It appears that Habīballāh Zulqadr, a supporter of Musaddiq and his national movement, was also a friend of Malikī, as he sent him his 16-year-old daughter’s poem, written in defence of the motherland, for publication.

ꜥIlm va Zindigī published a total of 14 issues from Day 1330/December 1951 to 1331/1953; it featured poems by Nādir Nādirpūr, Faraydūn Tavallalī, Faraydūn Kār, Nīmā Yūshīj, Suhrāb Sipihrī, and Parvīz Dāryūsh.¹¹Shams Langarūdī, Tārīkh-i tahlīlī-yi shi‎ꜥ‎r-i naw (2nd repr. ed., Tehran: Nashr-i Markaz, 1377/1998), 1:466. Its editor was Jalāl Āl-i Ahmad; his wife Sīmīn Dānishvar was a member of its editorial board. The magazine, initially published under the title Nabard va Zindigī and later resuming publication under the new title ꜥIlm va Zindigī, served as the ideological organ of Hizb-i Zahmatʹkishān (the Workers’ Party of Iran or Third Force) and was released monthly during the time of Musaddiq’s national government. It featured educational content on social issues and provided scientific analyses of contemporary topics. Following the coup on Mordād 28, 1332/August 19, 1953, and the subsequent arrest and exile of Malikī to Falak al-Aflāk, the magazine halted publication.¹²Manūchihr Rasā, “Mājarā-yi taꜥ‎tīl shudan-i majallah-yi ‎ꜥ‎ilm va zindigī,” Barrasī-yi Kitāb (Autumn 1392/2013): 50–53.

Maymanat’s first major response to the coup was her early poem Dar pīshgāh-i mām-i vatan (In the presence of the motherland):

He cried out: “We,

have sworn to sacrifice our lives,

in the presence of the Motherland, we have pledged,

that we must be faithful.”

The name of the homeland painted his face with the color of tulips,

in his sorrowful eyes, anger clouded; he raised his cry,

and the cry of the people,

surged like the wild roar of endless waves,

suddenly unleashing a tumult in the world,

from his eyes, filled with vengeance,

hundreds of sparks erupted forth.

He advanced to show the base enemy,

his unwavering struggle.

The bayonets targeted his chest,

numerous bullets drenched his body in blood,

yet still, his companions heard in the depths of their hearts:

“We have sworn to sacrifice our lives,

in the presence of the Motherland,

we have pledged,

that we must be faithful.”¹³ꜥAlī Akbar Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvar (Tehran: ‎ꜥIlmī, 1335/1958), 1:344; Maryam Mīrshamsī et. al., Tasvīr-i yak darīchah-yi rawshan (Tehran: Āgah, 1401/2022), 336.

Burqaꜥ‎ī included this poem in the first volume of Sukhanvarān-i nāmī-i muꜥ‎āsir (Renowned contemporary poets), along with eight other poems. He gave the title of the poem as “In the presence of the motherland we have made a pact,” based on one of its couplets, which is repeated at the beginning and end of the poem.¹⁴Muhammad Bāqir Burqaꜥī, Sukhanvarān-i nāmī-i muꜥāsir (Hāvī-i sharh-i hāl-i zubdat al-āsār 94 shāꜥir-i muꜥāsir) (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1335/1958), 1:344. This poem is of the nīmāʾī style, with a narrative element, telling the story of a brave warrior who sacrifices his blood for the sake of his homeland so that the motherland may live on. The repeated words ‘cry,’ ‘wild roar,’ ‘clamour,’ ‘uproar,’ and ‘shout’ raise the voice of the poem in protest and echo the fury of the warrior and his comrades. The term ‘mām-i vatan’ was frequently used in the poetry of the Constitutional period, as seen in the works of ꜥĀrif Qazvīnī and Farrukhī Yazdī, while the word ‘khalq’ denotes the warrior’s leftist tendencies.¹⁵Maymanat writes in this regard: “During the brief period of Dr. Musaddiq’s government, leftist publications were published abundantly and freely. Terms of this nature became ingrained in my consciousness as I engaged with a range of books, magazines, and newspapers from that period, and I employed them without considering their connotations across different political groups.” However, the main theme of the poem is patriotism and the love of homeland, which shaped the ideological framework of Iranian intellectuals in the early twentieth century. The poem reflects the voice of anger and the cries of protest that culminated in the revolution.

Another of Maymanat’s poems from this period is Jūyā-yi rawshanāyī (In pursuit of light), which Burqaꜥ‎ī also published in the first volume of Sukhanvarān-i nāmī-i mu‎ꜥ‎āsir:

Although hope is dead within my heart,

And there is no longer hope for my beloved there,

Yet still, love remains alive in my heart,

A great love for the people that is ever-lasting.¹⁶Burqaꜥī, Sukhanvarān-i nāmī-i muꜥāsir, 105.

This neo-classical chahārʹpārah, replete with themes of love, people, revolution, and triumph over darkness, emphasizes Maymanat’s commitment to a social and political cause. Among the oppressed people depicted in this poem are a broken-hearted orphan and a poor child, as well as a brave youth who, despite his captivity at the hands of the enemy, contemplates freedom and the light of hope. However, the central theme of the poem is ‘love’: love that was once devoted to a beloved and is now in service of the people, society, and the revolution. This poem was likely composed in the 1330/1950s when Maymanat was still young.

On Mordād 19, 1333/August 10, 1954, Sipīd u Siyāh published Maymanat’s poem Rūz-i pīrūzī (Day of victory), under the pen name ‘Āzādah,’ alongside a poem by Sāyah¹⁷Pen name of Hūshang Ibtihāj.:

In the golden pavilion of the day,

Where the daughter of the sun lies asleep,

In an autumn full of lessons,

In a spring filled with joy and hope,

In the heart of a suffering mother,

Who swears to her child,

Do not turn away from the bright path of your people,

Do not sever your ties,

In a hymn that reflects the essence of our nation,

In a gaze that flashes with anger,

In the joy that has vanished from my heart,

In the heart that is lost in ecstasy,

In the silence, how unbearable it would be,

Foretelling the impending roaring storm,

In the dark and dim night,

That hints at the dawn’s bright light.

When, from his eyes filled with the untold,

The light of joy trembles within my heart,

A warm tear of longing to see him,

Gently slides down my cheek,

Ah, freedom, O great hope,

I see the day of your victory.¹⁸Sipīd u Siyāh 2, no. 4 (Shahrīvar 1333/September 1954): 16.

Rūz-i pīrūzī is a chahārʹpārah that concludes with a couplet about freedom, in which the poet envisions the day of victory through a lens of hope. The poem’s title itself hints at the anticipated triumph of freedom.

In Mehr 1333/October 1954, Maymanat’s chahārʹpārah Pāyān-i kār (End of the affair) was published, under the pen name ‘Āzādah,’ in Sipīd u Siyāh, alongside poems by Shahryār and Nāzirʹzādah Kirmānī:¹⁹Sipīd u Siyāh 2, no. 9 (Mihr 1333/October 1954): 16.

Those unaware of the fatality of their lives

Laugh drunkenly at the world;

With a splash of imagination,

They paint deceptive images of unattainable futures on the canvas of their hearts,

Those who rejoice in the enemy’s victory,

Celebrate the success of others,

Take pleasure in trampling over the land and homes of the poor,

Mock the sorrow of the noble-hearted,

These ominous owls chanting endlessly,

Whispering the mournful tales of death in the ears of the people,

These blind bats whose golden days,

unfold in the dead dark nights upon the ruins of death,

They, and thousands like them, remain blind to their destiny,

Held in the hands of the people,

Let them take heed, for the final toll of their deeds,

Is death, decline, dishonour, and despair.

Pāyān-i kār is an advisory poem addressing those who revel in the enemy’s triumph, as a warning to those who are destroying the lives of the people, unaware that their fate lies in the hands of the very people they are oppressing. The repeated use of the words “nation” and “people” underscores her appeal to the public. Metaphors such as “ominous owl” and “blind bat” refer to the nation’s enemies, while notions such as “night,” “death,” “ruin,” and “darkness” reflect the grim political and social atmosphere of the time.

The poems presented here are examples of Maymanat’s sociopolitical poetry published during the 1330s/1950s. Although it is likely that some additional poems with similar themes can be found in other publications, even these few poems clearly demonstrate that Maymanat’s worldview is rooted in libertarian and patriotic thought. In addition, a recurring theme in her poetry is her deep concern for people’s rights. Maymanat’s youth coincided with the 1332/1953 coup, during which she experienced the turbulent years of political unrest that ensued. She also observed the political life of her father, Habīballāh Zulqadr, a prominent nationalist and supporter of Musaddiq’s government. Therefore, it is not surprising that she was shaped by the political climate of her era.

During this period, Maymanat only composed one nīmāʾī poem, her very first, while her other works from the 1330s/1950s include neo-classical ghazals and chahārʹpārahs. Several other poems from the 1330s/1950s have survived, again in the form of modern ghazal and chahārʹpārah, engaging with themes of love, sorrow, grief, and compassion. Some of these works are considered among the finest ghazals in modern Persian poetry, even though Maymanat never included them in her published volumes and viewed them merely as youthful exercises.²⁰Mīrshamsī et. al., Tasvīr-i yak darīchah-yi rawshan, 333.

In his book Az panjarahʹhā-yi zindigānī (From the windows of life), Muhammad ‎ꜥ‎Azīmī selected six of Maymanat’s ghazals: Rūh-i nasīm (Spirit of the breeze), Gar gham nabūd (If there were no sorrow), Bakht-i nawʹdāmīdah (Newfound fortune), Chashm bih rāh (Waiting), Mī-tarsam az judāʾīʹhā (I fear the separations) and Afsūn-i shiꜥ‎r (The charm of poetry).²¹Muhammad ꜥAzīmī, Panjarah‎ʹ‎hā-yi zindigānī (Barguzīdah-yi ghazal-i imrūz-i Īrān) (2nd repr. ed., Tehran: Āgah, 1377/1998). Burqaꜥ‎ī also cites the latter poem in Sukhanvarān-i nāmī-i muꜥ‎āsir; it is an homage to one of Shahryār’s ghazals, beginning with the couplet “The unfaithful moon shattered our friendship / breaking the glass of my affection with the stone of discord” and concluding with the lines “The throne of liberty befits me / For I am a king, and the free are my subjects.”

Maymanat completed her BA in Persian literature in 1338/1959, under the guidance of Parvīz Nātil Khānlarī, who suggested the title of her thesis, Āzādah va āzādigī dar adabiyāt-i fārsī (The free and freedom in Persian literature). The choice of this title undoubtedly reflects both Maymanat’s and her advisor’s libertarian ideals. Upon Khānlarī’s recommendation, she later wrote an article based on her thesis, which was published in Sukhan magazine in 1339/1960, and begins with the following statement:

To understand a nation’s character and values, one effective approach is to examine what it deems noble and honorable, and what are the characteristics of individuals it regards as worthy of these distinctions […] In Persian literature, especially in poetry, ‘free’ and ‘freedom’ are often synonymous with ‘nobility’ and ‘noble.’ These terms typically denote someone of esteemed moral character as well as elevated social standing.²²Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, “Āzādah va āzādigī dar adabiyāt-i fārsī,” Sukhan 11 (Ābān 1339/October 1960): 793–4.

At the age of 23, Maymanat charted her life’s path: a journey dedicated to the pursuit of freedom by choosing her pen name, ‘Āzādah,’ and writing a thesis on the concept of liberty. In 1351/1972, she earned her MA in library science and published her thesis, Kitābʹshināsī-yi shiꜥ‎r-i naw dar Īrān, in 1353/1974, with a preface by Īraj Afshār. The thesis is a bibliography of modern poetry published in Iran from 1299/1920 to 1349/1970, including the works of female poets, making it a significant source for the study of the history of women’s poetry in Iran. This book further underscores Maymanat’s inclination towards modern poetry, particularly as she praised Nīmā Yūshīj in her introduction for his groundbreaking contributions to the foundation of modern Persian poetry.

Maymanat was never actively involved in politics, but, like many Iranians of her generation, she lived through a period of significant political upheaval and was naturally influenced by the events of that time. This impact is evident in her later works, as she continued to compose poetry with political undertones. Despite her personal responsibilities, particularly as a mother, Maymanat never abandoned poetry and continued to write throughout different periods, responding to the political and social climate of the day as well as her unique family circumstances.

Most of Maymanat’s poetry from the 1340s/1960s is included in the collection Bīdārī-i jūybārān (Awakening of streams), which was first published in 1347/1968. The latest edition of this collection was published in 1402/2023 as part of Favvārah zīr-i bārān, which begins with a couplet by Sāꜥ‎ib: “You can overlook what passes by your eyes / But awakening is a truth that never hides.” The metaphor of awakening has been one of the most common tropes in contemporary Persian poetry since the Constitutional era, when poets such as Parvīn, Bahār, and Farrukhī Yazdī frequently used it. Additionally, Nīmā used this trope in his modern poetry as well, and it is likely that Maymanat borrowed it from him. For example, in one of his quatrains, Nīmā reflects on awakening and the awakened as follows: “I said to myself, none is awakened / Only the bird of dawn, fully awake, flies unchained.”²³Nīmā Yūshīj, Majmū‎ꜥ‎ah-yi ash‎ꜥ‎ār-i kāmil-i Nīmā Yūshīj, ed. Sīrūs Tāhbāz (4th repr. ed., Tehran: Nigāh, 1375/1996), 531. He always directed his attention to the awakened, awaiting their arrival: “It’s at this moment / When one among the few awakes / Is listening carefully to the outside voices / Stunned and silenced alongside other awakened souls.”²⁴Yūshīj, Majmūꜥah-yi ashꜥār, 464. Nīmā always positioned himself among the awakened, as for instance in Mahtāb (Moonlight), in which “The sorrow of these few who are sleeping / Removes the drowsiness from my weeping eyes.”²⁵Yūshīj, Majmūꜥah-yi ashꜥār, 444. In his book Az Sabā tā Nīmā, Yahyā Āryanpūr refers to the Constitutional era as the “Period of Awakening.”²⁶Yahyā Āryanpūr, Az Sabā tā Nīmā (Tārīkh-i 150 sāl adab-i fārsī) (5th repr. ed., Tehran: Zavvār, 1372/1993), 1:223.

Maymanat’s Bīdārī-i jūybārān encompasses her poems from the 1340s/1960s through 1347/1968. The term “Bīdārī-i jūybārān” was used by Shafī‎ꜥ‎ī Kadkanī in his poem “Āyā tu rā pāsukhī hast?” from his poetry collection Dar kūchah-bāgh‎ʹhā-yi Nayshābūr (In the alley gardens of Nishapur), first published in 1350/1971:²⁷Maymanat noted regarding this matter: “This book was printed at the suggestion and with the efforts of both Dr. Shafīꜥī Kadkanī and the late Mahmūd Kīyānūsh. Dr. Shafīꜥī chose the title of the book. He had mentioned that he wanted to publish a collection of his poems under this title, but he preferred that I use it instead. Today, when I read the poem that you quoted from Dar kūchah-bāghʹhā-yi Nayshābūr, I suspect that he likely intended this title for the collection that was published about three years later.” “There are clouds, rain, and more rain / The garden’s winter sleep begins to wane / while awakening streams flow and fountain.”²⁸Muhammad-Rizā Shafīꜥī Kadkanī, Āyinahʾī barā-yi sidā‎ʹ‎hā (Tehran: Sukhan, 1376/1997), 256.

At the time of the publication of Bīdārī-i jūybārān, Maymanat was 31 years old. The poems in this collection are rich with metaphors and allusions typical of the era, infused with a deep sense of sorrow and grief. Neither the sun nor the rain can revive a decayed tree or a blackened desert, for the soil is charred and the roots are rotten. A strange sense of despair and hopelessness casts a shadow over this poetry collection, leading to a noticeable philosophical disillusionment resulting from failures in life experiences.²⁹See Muhammad-Rizā Shafīꜥī Kadkanī, Advār-i shiꜥr-i fārsī (Tehran: Sukhan, 1380/2001), 70. The poem Nah āftāb, nah bārān (Neither the Sun, nor the rain) is one example of these poems:

Tell the sun,

not to cast its glow

upon my home’s sky,

Amiable rays

and clouds’ gentle offerings

cannot plant life

in this black desert,

where the soil is charred,

and roots lie rotting.

The warm blood of my stalk

runs forever dry.³⁰Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān (Tehran: Āgāh, 1402/2023), 15.

Ārī… zamīn (Yes… the earth) displays a similar sense of hopelessness, using different imagery of the Earth to convey a sense of despair that stems not only from failure but also from the deep sorrow of forgetting. The poet continually expresses her sadness over her fading memories of the stars and the arrival of spring. The distant evening star heralds a night full of stars, yet other stars quickly forget this promising star.

Another poem of this time, Shāyad bahār rā? (Maybe spring?) reminds us that:

In the depths of silence,

echoes of spring softly sway.

The tempest’s rage darkened

the sky of our garden of hope.

Frost’s cruel grip chilled our tender hearts…

Oh, the spring we’ve long forgotten.³¹Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 20–21.

The poem Qaht-i bahār (The absence of the spring) similarly expresses mourning and despair:

Oh, show me

in the turmoil of this ominous forest

a branch from a thriving tree,

a fruitful tree—

a tree that, in the absence of the spring,

has not yet succumbed to autumn’s jaundice.

And in this horrible situation,

the storm has not yet bent its tall back.³²Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 51.

In Bar khāk (On the ground), Maymanat laments the death of a bird that has erased the beautiful notion of flight from its blind mind.³³Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 28. This poem reflects the sorrow and pain of all seekers of freedom who have forgotten the struggle.

The first edition of Bīdārī-i jūybārān, includes a poem titled Sifīd-qabā (White-cloaked), written in childlike and fragmented language and dedicated to Musaddiq Zulqadr, Maymanat’s distant brother. Sifīd-qabā is a dove with white feathers, who brings bright, pure, and joyful days to the children. However, Maymanat requests the dove not to come to her city, but instead to fly to prosperous new cities, to convey her greetings of freedom to those cities.³⁴Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, Bīdārī-i jūybārān (Tehran: Tūs, 1347/1968), 56. This poem tells a symbolic, childlike story of the lives of young people living in eternal exile, far from their homeland.³⁵Maymanat writes in a note: “It is interesting that I dedicated the poem Sifīd-qabā—which has a childlike language but a political theme—to my brother when he was eight or nine years old. Later, when he became distant, I included a poem for him in each collection, each with a more or less political theme.”

One particular poem from the collection Bīdārī-i jūybārān is ‘Pas az bārān’ (After the rain), which is also included in poetry anthologies and in the collection of Maymanat’s selected works published under the title Bā subhʹdamān: barguzīdah-yi shiꜥr-i muꜥāsir az mashrūtiyat tā inqilāb. In this poem the rain washes away the poet’s blurred reflection from the windowpanes, and as the morning sun shines through, a golden rainbow appears in the sky outside.³⁶Mīrsādiqī, Bīdārī-i jūybārān, 56; Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, Bā subhʹdamān (Tehran: Sukhan, 1375/1996), 411–3. Like her other poems, which never allow despair and hopelessness to lead them into darkness, this poem is bright and full of energy, reflecting her vibrant spirit.

Maymanat dedicated her poetry collection Bā ābʹhā va āyinahʹhā (With waters and mirrors) to her father. Although many poems in this collection convey a sense of sorrow and despair, others, such as Tasvīr-i yak darīchah-yi rawshan (Image of a bright window), present stunning examples of hope and resilience. This poem depicts a closed, dreary room that opens to a radiant window of hope. It was first published in Sukhan magazine in 1355/1976 and was included in the collection Bā ābʹhā va āyinahʹhā:

I said,

I’d grow with the plants,

I’d sing with the birds,

I’d dance with the flowing water.

I said,

I’ll drink up, one day, in one gulp,

the golden-ribbed cup of the sun.

The desire to grow,

to read,

to flow with the running water—

all became an image of a bright window

in this closed, walled space.³⁷Sukhan 25, no. 6 (Ābān–Āzar 1355/November–December 1976): 571–2; Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 51; Mīrsādiqī, Bā āb‎ʹhā va āyinah‎ʹ‎hā (Tehran: Tūs, 1356/1977), 70.

The poem Dar hālahʾī az ātash (In a ring of fire), from this collection, was written in praise of the Siyāhkal’s guerrilla fighters in Urdībihisht 1350/May 1971. On the morning of Farvardīn 19/April 12, General Farsīu, the chairman at the time of the army’s tribunals, was targeted and shot by the fighters of Siyāhkal, because he had ordered the execution of the youths who had attacked the Siyāhkal’s gendarmerie post on Bahman 19, 1349/February 8, 1971. The dating of the poem implies its advocacy of this incident: “The cry of a bullet, yes, the whistle of a bullet! Let the city believe that there is a forest, believe that the forest is still alive.”³⁸Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 106. Poets such as Shafīꜥī Kadkanī, Khusraw Gulsurkhī, Saꜥīd Sultānpūr, and Sīyāvash Kasrāʾī are all known for having written resistance poetry praising the jungle fighters; Shafīʿī Kadkanī also included Maymanat in this group of poets in his book Advār-i shiʿr-i fārsī.³⁹Shafī‎ꜥī Kadkanī, Advār-i shiꜥr-i fārsī, 79.

In 1353/1974, Maymanat wrote a poem for the mother of the Rizāʾī brothers, which was published in the magazine Nāmah-yi Kānūn-i Nivīsandigān (Journal of the Iranian Writers’ Association) after the Revolution. The Rizāʾī family lost their three sons Ahmad, Rizā, and Mahdī during the years 1350/1971 to 1352/1973, before the Revolution.⁴⁰Āzar Rizāʾī, the daughter of this family, was also executed by firing squad in Bahman 1360/February 1981 during the execution of members of the Mujahedin organization. These three young men, members of Mujāhidīn-i Khalq (The People’s Mujahidin Organization), were all killed in various ways during clashes with the SAVAK or under torture. In Mihr 1353/October 1974, Maymanat composed a poem, titled Bih yumn va yārī-i īmān (With the blessing and support of faith), about the mother of these young men, and specifically addressing her patience and resilience in coping with the loss of her children:

I did not see you,

Yet I whispered to myself:

How can one remain silent

At the sorrowful death

By three poisoned bullets

That targeted the hearts of our children?

I did not see you,

Yet I whispered to myself:

How did that mother

Yield three parts of her heart to the enemy

And still sit in quiet watching the moon and sun?

When I saw you, I realized, oh precious being,

With the blessing and support of faith, one can cross water,

With the blessing and support of faith, one can escape fire.

You are the spirit of patience in spring,

As the dark days wait for plants, flowers, and birds.

Your resilience stands tall and mighty,

A fruitful tree that thrives abundantly

A thousand fruits will come from this wondrous tree,

Despite the old enemy that broke its three branches.⁴¹Nāmah-yi Kānūn-i Nivīsandigān-i Īrān 1 (Bahār 1358/Spring 1979): 190.

In this poem, Maymanat, herself a mother of two, expresses her deep sorrow in solidarity with a mother who has lost her three children in the struggle against the ruling regime, which she refers to as an age-old enemy.⁴²This poem was initially published in Nāmah-yi Kānūn-i Nivīsandigān-i Īrān 1, and later appeared in Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, Jān‎ʹ‎hā-yi āftābī (Tehran, Nārvan, 1381/1992), 71; and in the collection Favvārah zīr-i bārān with the dedication removed and under the new title, Tu rā kih dīdam, dānistam. This poem demonstrates how Maymanat has sustained her political consciousness over time. Among her political poems from the years leading up to the Islamic Revolution is Sabukbārān-i daryāʹhā (The Lighthearted of the seas), written in 1354/1976 and inspired by a couplet from the first ghazal of Hāfiz’s Dīvān: “But, travelling light, what can these land-lubbers know of it / Black night, our fear of the waves, and the horrible whirl-pool?”⁴³Hāfiz, Hafiz of Shiraz: Thirty Poems, translated by Peter Avery and John Heath-Stubbs (London: John Murray, 1952), 19. Maymanat uses the term ‘the lighthearted of the seas’ (sabukbārān-i daryāʹhā) in contrast to ‘landlubbers’ (sabukbārān-i sāhilʹhā) because for her, the sea symbolizes an ideal utopia, where those who are at peace reside, while those who sit on the shore are the unfortunate. In this poem, Maymanat addresses the young fighters who, unwilling to endure idleness, bravely ventured forth and joined the endless seas, proclaiming:

Oh! You who are saved,

Oh! Lighthearted ones,

You who have abandoned your shelter

and embraced the storm,

I do not know if you are aware of our state,

the unfortunate ones on the shore.⁴⁴Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 97.

Dar muntahā-yi bī-bargī (In the utmost barrenness) is another political poem, marked by a sense of despair over the futility of all efforts. The autumn of struggle has arrived; the fall of the garden is approaching. Yet, at the far end of the garden, a red rose is still blooming. It seems that the garden, now in ruin, refuses to embrace the autumn.⁴⁵Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 98. The poem Āzarakhsh, dedicated to Musaddiq, Maymanat’s distant brother, symbolizes the presence of a man who, when everyone was misled and shouting “yes” in the darkness, cried out “no” from the heart of the night.⁴⁶Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 95. This poem echoes Nīmā’s Mahtāb, quoted earlier: “Nobody stirs in their sleep for a moment, yet / The sorrow of those few asleep breaks through in my tearful eyes.”⁴⁷Yūshīj, Majmūꜥah-yi ashꜥār, 444. In the summer of 1357/1978, Maymanat composed a poem for the martyrs of freedom. She considers her revolutionary poetry insignificant compared to the poems of the martyrs, written line by line with the words of blood and fire, as she asserts that the true poets are the martyrs and the freedom fighters.⁴⁸Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 103.

Maymanat and Committed Poetry in the Post-revolutionary Era

1. The Discourse of War and the Discourse of Opposition to War

The collection Jānʹhā-yi āftābī includes Maymanat’s poems until the late 1360/1980s. It is followed by Nah yak sitārah, nah yak māh (Neither a star, nor a moon), which features her works from the 1360/1980s and 1370/1990s. The most significant event during these years in Iran was the devastating war between Iran and Iraq, which Maymanat addresses in this collection. The Iran-Iraq War, lasting from Shahrīvar 1359/September 1980 to Tīr 1367/July 1988, plunged Iran into a state of severe political and social turmoil for eight years. Initially fueled by the enthusiasm of revolutionary youth and the rallying cry to defend the homeland against foreign aggression, the war escalated to such an extent that only a few Iranian households remained unaffected by its tragedies. Iran lost many of its brightest youth during these years, leaving many parents grieving the terrible loss of their children. The war resulted in displaced and isolated widowed spouses and fatherless children, while cities lay in ruins, with deserted/ headless palm trees.

The historical events of the Iran-Iraq War have been extensively documented. Kamran Talattof discusses the literature of war in his book The Politics of Writing in Iran, positing that what is referred to as war literature during this period is a reflection of the dominant discourse of the Islamic Republic regime.⁴⁹Talattof, The Politics of Writing in Iran, 112. Writers supportive of the Islamic Republic exaggeratedly portrayed the war as a sacred cause, comparing its participants to the companions of Imam Husayn and labeling it as “Sacred Defence.” Their body of work is often categorized as literature of resilience, to which many prominent writers and poets have made significant contributions. However, a significant part of the literature from this period has been overlooked: the contributions of poets and writers who opposed war rather than glorifying it. One such figure is Maymanat, who deemed war the most heinous phenomenon of humanity, asserting that its occurrence leads to the darkest chapters in a nation’s history.

It is noteworthy that for a long time, anti-war poetry, novels, and films were prohibited from publication and release in Iran.⁵⁰From Maymanat’s note about this matter. Ismāꜥīl Fasīh (1313–1388/1935–2009), in Zimistān-i 62, and Husayn Murtizāʾīyān Ābkinār (b. 1345/1967), in ꜥAqrab rū-yi pilahʹhā-yi rāhʹāhan-i Andīmishk, are among this group of anti-war writers. Qaysar Amīnpūr (1338–1386/1959–2007) also wrote extensively about war; he was from Dizfūl and witnessed all the atrocities of war up close. In Madkhal-i shiꜥr-i muꜥāsir-i fārsī, Shahryār Khusravī claims that Qaysar Amīnpūr was influenced by the poetic tone of Shāmlū’s “Shiꜥrʾī kih zindigī ast” as well as by the poems of Maymanat, among others. His Shiꜥrʾī barā-yi jang (1359/1980) is considered one of the most powerful and captivating poems about war: “With the hope of true victory, not in war, but over war!” ⁵¹Shahryār Khusravī, Madkhal-i shiꜥr-i muꜥāsir-i fārsī (Tehran: Fātimī, 1396/2017), 137.

As with the works of other like-minded poets in this genre, Maymanat has never framed war as a source of sanctity. In the poem Āyinah bandān, written in Ābān 1361/November 1982, more than two years after the onset of the war, the poet speaks of the grieving walls of the cities and the multitude of martyr images with their pure and mournful faces adorning the walls. She uses the metaphor of burnt leaves as an image to depict the martyred young men: “I said, Look! But how sorrowful it is that they have adorned the city: these burnt leaves in the fire of death, these pure and mournful faces / Yet, the trees will still have a spring / But / What shall remain with us tomorrow / after this dreadful, heavy war?”⁵²Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 187.

In the autumn of 1361/1982, Maymanat composed the poem Girdāb, sāyahʹhā va sidāʹhā (Whirlpool, shadows, and sounds), written from the perspective of a sister who has lost her brother to the war: “Today, remnants of his body remain… a shell has claimed half of him… The anguished sounds of the mother’s wailing echo repeatedly.” The sister’s dismayed gaze shows that she still cannot accept her brother’s death. Her hands instinctively seek the warmth of his presence, reflecting her deep grief and profound resentment. The poet metaphorically anticipates the eruption of thousands of volcanoes, igniting in the distance and responding with fury and hatred to those who provoke war.⁵³Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 197–9.

The poem Chirāgh-i chashm-i barādar (The light of my brother’s eye) was also written during that time; it similarly features a sister grieving her brother and seeing his mourning altar (hijlah) set up beside the streets.⁵⁴Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 211. In a discussion of these two poems, Maymanat said: “One day, I was in line at a bakery. A little girl, about seven or eight years old, was standing in front of me. Suddenly, she turned to me with immense astonishment and, without hesitation, said, ‘My brother was martyred.’ That girl’s face lingers in my mind.”⁵⁵From Maymanat’s notes to the author. The poem Pāy tā sar zakhmīʹam (From head to toe, I am wounded) was written in the winter of 1361/1983. This poem uses the word “blood” seven times, along with images of war such as bombs, shells, barrages of bullets, the dead, the wounded, swords, and blades. Maymanat describes the warmongers as madmen and life-destroyers, who, like drunken brigands, wield their swords and spill blood in the cities.⁵⁶Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 192–4. The poet believes the solution lies in resistance, demanding their branches be dried up and their roots be burned.

The poem Tilism (Spell) was written in the middle of the Iran-Iraq War in 1363/1984. In this poem, Maymanat’s narrative reflects the lives of the dynamic and conscious youth of the land, who, filled with energy and passion, had the potential to write a new chapter in Iran’s history. However, war and death stripped them of their life’s purpose, and their names are now marked on gravestones and the walls of alleys and streets. The existence of war allows evil to thrive.⁵⁷Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 130; Mīrsādiqī, Jānʹhā-yi āftābī, 22.

In Shahrīvar 1363/September 1984, Maymanat wrote a poem titled Ay pā-birahnah! (O barefoot!), which protests against the war by urging everyday “barefoot” people to ask the warmongers (the monsters) what they have deprived them of in life: bread, books, shoes, hats, schools, workshops, farms, and their dearest young brothers: “Look over there! Monsters from cities far across the world are usurping the large garden of your school.”⁵⁸Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 203. In this poem, war is the weapon of monsters who seek to take bread and wealth from everyday people.

During the 1360/1980s, when war was a central issue for Iran and its people, Maymanat was among the poets who empathized with the pain and suffering of the war victims, and she expressed this empathy in several of her poems. She also wrote two poems in the 1370/1990s about the war while living outside of Iran: Guzārish-i jang 1 (War report 1) and Guzārish-i jang 2 (War report 2), which are included in the collection Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān (Under the most cold-blooded snow of the world), which she wrote during her stay in White Plains in Farvardīn 1378/April 1999. These poems present horrifying scenes of a rural school, where children play amidst the fires of war. From a child holding a piece of bread, only ashes and smoke remain: “When the colorless blue bubble of the sky—representing the tall roof of the village farms—burst at noon, the sky was transformed into fiery spears and smoke. The child clutched and carried that thin piece of bread in his small hands, amidst jumps and plays.”⁵⁹Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 254; Maymanat Mīrsādiqī, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān (Tehran: Murvārīd, 1389/2010), 18. Guzārish-i jang 2 (War report 2) depicts the same village after a bombing, with torn curtains and corpses on the ground, remnants of a house that was once a home but now lies in ruins: “The wind whipped through the dark wound of the hill, spiraling around a corpse that was decaying under the midday sun, once… it was a village.”⁶⁰Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 260; Mīrsādiqī, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān, 22.

Maymanat is a poet of suffering, regardless of where that suffering may arise. In a note about these poems, she explained that they were inspired by the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the news of which she closely followed on television in the United States, and she was deeply moved by the harrowing scenes and tragic events.⁶¹From Maymanat’s notes to the author. She is among the few poets who have addressed the subject of war with the intention of opposing it, similarly to Zhālah Isfahānī, who, drawing on her life experiences, expressed her disdain for war among the pre-revolutionary poets in 1328/1950 as follows:⁶²One collection of protest poems published in Iran, Dādkhvāst, which features works by poets from Iran and Afghanistan does not include a single poem addressing war or protesting those who instigate it. The themes of these poems focus solely on social justice and economic discrimination. See Umīd Mahdī Nizhād and Muhammad Mahdī Sayyār, Dādkhvāst (Sad shiꜥr-i iꜥtirāz) (3rd repr. ed., Mashhad: Sipīdah Bāvarān, 1388/2009). “Like all the mothers of the world, they bear hatred and shame for war / Cursed are the mothers of the world upon anyone who kindles the flames of war.”⁶³Parīchihr Sultānī, Mādarān sulh mī-khvāhand (Guzīdah-yi ashꜥār-i Zhālah Isfahānī) (Tehrān: Il-Dukht Bakhtīyārī, 1398/2019), 41.

Maymanat, Sīmīn Bihbahānī, and Firishtah Sārī are three examples of post-Revolution women poets who have written about war. Sīmīn, like Maymanat, vividly depicts scenes of the front lines in several poems that lament the deaths of children and young people. She considers war intolerable: “With tears and curses, she hung the dead soldier’s boots around her neck, its strap tangled together. I asked, ‘What does this mean?’ She smiled and said, ‘My child, the little one sitting on my shoulders hasn’t taken off his boots yet.’”⁶⁴Sīmīn Bihbahānī, Majmūꜥah-yi ashꜥār (2nd repr. ed. Tehran: Nigāh, 1384/2005), 870. And in a poem titled Binvīs! Binvīs! Binvīs! (Write! Write! Write!), dedicated to the brave defenders of “Khūnīn-shahr” and “all the blood-soaked towns of my homeland,” she says: “Write that it was severed from the body, that delicate branch of ivory, adorned with a golden bracelet and patterned with its nails. Write about the doll, which was covered in blood, just like its owner. Its eyes were full of dirt, and its glassy surface was dusty.”⁶⁵Bihbahānī, Majmūꜥah-yi ashꜥār, 618.

The collection Pīsh az ān khvāb-i zimistānī (Before that winter sleep) includes several of Maymanat’s poems from the 1370/1990s and 1380/2000s, most of which explore philosophical themes. In this collection, several poems engage with the theme of war; for instance, in Ū rā nigāh kun! (Look at him!), the poet perceives the world as overwhelmed by conflict and bloodshed, and subtly suggests that death is the true victor of all wars. War has engulfed our lives, and the news we hear and see reinforce this reality: “With bloody words, history turns every day, every day, across the diverse landscapes of geography, with limited and unlimited borders… We wake up with bloody moments, we sleep with bloody moments, and our dreams are the horrifying interpretations of that very awakening. From bloody Saturdays to bloody Fridays.”⁶⁶Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 409.

2. Maymanat’s Poetry of Protest in the Post-revolutionary Era

The continuity of committed literature in both poetry and prose stands out among Iranian literary movements following the Islamic Revolution. Maymanat’s post-revolutionary protest poetry uses a metaphorical and symbolic style, so that fully grasping its essence becomes challenging. These poems reflect a profound social consciousness, a critical outlook, and an aesthetic perspective that grows more nuanced and refined over time.

One of Maymanat’s most striking poems, Bāz-ham (Again…?), is undated, suggesting that its historical context is not relevant, although it was certainly composed during the years following the Revolution. It conveys the same perpetual narrative of eternal repetition. She echoes Shāmlū’s “Sāl-i bad, sāl-i bād, sāl-i ashk, sāl-i shak…” (The bad year, the windy year, the year of tears, the year of doubts…) in the lines “Hīmahʾī, jaraqahʾī va ātashī, hīmahʾī, jaraqahʾī va ātashī, bāz…, bāz ham hamān hikāyat-i hamīshigī, bāz ham, sāl, sāl-i bad, bāz ham, sāl, sāl-i ashk” (A timber, a flicker, a blaze; a timber, a flicker, a blaze, again… again, the same old story, again, a bad year, again, a year of tears).⁶⁷Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 347; Mīrsādiqī, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān, 115.

As previously noted, Maymanat’s protest poems are pertinent to the subject of war. However, some poems address the events of the early years of the Revolution, while others were composed in the subsequent decades. For instance, she wrote her poem Hijlah (The mourning altar) in the fall of 1363/1984, inspired by the altars erected in every neighbourhood and marketplace in memory of the martyrs, and by the mothers who, unable to mourn for their children, held their grief internally, as if they had created their own personal altars in their hearts to honour their lost children.⁶⁸From Maymanat’s notes. The deep emotional pain and suffering of mothers thus serve as sacred spaces (altars) for their grief and sacrifice.⁶⁹Mīrsādiqī, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān, 123.

Shab-i āshūb (The night of turmoil), written in Shahrīvar 1364/September 1985, tells the story of free-spirited people who refuse to surrender and who break free from limitations and restrictions, and how their very existence undermines the rule of tyrants and oppressors. As a result, from every corner of the city, a thousand daggers of wrath are unleashed, ready to cast you into the bloody abyss of death.⁷⁰Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 132.

Shahāb-i qāsid (The meteor messenger) uses the metaphor of a meteor to symbolize the couriers who relay the messages of the stars, representing the fighters, to one another. The meteor tears through the throat of an old demon that blocks the path to the stars, illuminating the night:

The meteor messenger tears through the darkness,

Ripping the throat of the old demon

That blocks the path to the stars,

With its own arrow.

Look! Look! How it hurriedly carries

The message of this star

Towards that star.⁷¹Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 158.

The poem Nah! Nah! (No! No!), written in Bahman 1365/February 1987, describes the humiliation of the enemies and their weakness in the face of the fighters’ resilience: the star symbolizes the fighters, the freedom-seekers, and justice. By repeating “No!” the poet declares that the enemies, depicted as dogs, will never be able to destroy the eternal star of hope: “Never will that great star of the sky and the sea—the inevitable reflection of our hopes—be touched by these dogs. No! Your hands will never reach it.”⁷²Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 147.

Īn tangnā-i vahshat (This stranglehold of fear) is included in the collection Jānʹhā-yi āftābī. It is dedicated to Mahmūd Kīyānūsh and Parī Mansūrī, two poets and translators who were compelled to abandon their homeland and live in exile. Although the poem dates back to 1356/1977, it reflects the plight of migrants during the long years that followed. Maymanat’s anger is evident as she curses those responsible for this forced exile, who have confiscated vast lands for their own desires, making the country inhospitable for freedom-seekers:

“O parrots who have left your homeland! / My kindred friends! This narrow, fearful, and hateful place / what has it done to your souls? / That you have taken refuge in the cold desolation of exile? / Cursed be the ones who have made this vast land of water, and earth—so full of open space, water, and sunlight— / so narrow for the pure-hearted birds.”⁷³Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 162.

Tiʾātr-i pūchī (The theatre of absurdity) commemorates the death of Ahmad Tafazzulī and is dedicated to Parī and Mahmūd Kīyānūsh. There has been much speculation surrounding Tafazzulī’s death, with some interpreting it as part of the series of intellectual assassinations known as the “chain murders of Iran.” Maymanat’s words capture the absurdity of his death: “The sky shrugs / with a colourless smile on its lips / appearing and fading. / The earth licks its lips / as it swallows its bloodied prey.”⁷⁴Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 215.

Guzār (The pass), dating back to Mordād 1362/August 1983, portrays the destruction of everything that has been painstakingly built through hard work. In this poem, Maymanat writes to her distant brother: “All was in vain, everything we built was in vain! We were laying bricks upon water. / This river is a destroyer, / This river / —that wild dragon of legends— / mercilessly, recklessly swallows up hearth and home alike.”⁷⁵Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 235.

Ma-rā chirāghʾī kun (Make me a lamp) is dedicated to Dr. Ilāhī’s nephew Hādī, who was one of those executed in 1362/1984. The authorities denied his family the right to bury him in a cemetery. This poem is narrated from the perspective of a young man who was executed, addressed to his sister:⁷⁶From Maymanat’s notes to the author.

“Do not suffer the torment of finding a place where my battered corpse can rest in peace. Do not bury me, dear sister! Take me home… A narrow grave on this vast land will never be a resting place for my bloodied body, for the graveyard itself is merely a part of the evil empire. Can you not see how even the city of the dead is being guarded? Take me home and wrap my bloodied body in a shroud of tears and sighs. Light me like a lamp atop your house! Leave the place of my grave as a prize for the peddlers of heaven.”⁷⁷Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 238.

Maymanat’s critical works in Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān, containing her poetry from the 1370/1990s, includes the poem Ikhtilāf-i sāꜥat (Time difference), composed in White Plains, near New York, in 1378/1999. The poet contrasts the mornings in White Plains, marked by discipline and hope for life, with those in Iran: “It’s night, and crows gather in flocks / on the roofs and doors / weaving and unravelling the rags of the day before yesterday / with their incessant cawing / under today’s sky / here and now.”⁷⁸Mīrsādiqī, Favvārah zīr-i bārān, 258; Mīrsādiqī, Zīr-i khūnʹsard-tarīn barf-i jahān, 20. In this poem, Maymanat critiques the ideological regime in Iran, which, instead of embracing modernity and innovation, clings to obsolete traditions. Rather than weaving harmonious and elegant curtains, the rulers want to reweave an old, tattered fabric. The crows in this poem symbolize the conservative traditionalists (the clerics), whose repetitive actions signifies backwardness and regression. In another short poem, Nuktah-yi 1 (Note 1), the crows also serve as a metaphor for those in power and a criticism of silence in the face of tyranny and oppression: “The crow says: the silence of the garden deserves my cawing.”

Assessing Maymanat’s work in light of Rizā Barāhanī’s four responsibilities of the committed poet demonstrates how she actively sought to fulfill the ideals of a committed poet throughout her career. Inspired by her nationalist father from a young age, she wrote patriotic poetry, fervently supporting the freedom fighters. By the 1340/1960s, she had established herself as an independent poet of the nīmāʾī style, seeking her place within the poetic tradition. The political and social conditions of post-revolutionary Iran, along with the outbreak of the Iran-Iraq War, ensured that she remained a conscientious poet, never forgetting her humanistic mission. Maymanat remained independent in both poetry and politics, showing no allegiance to either the right or the left. It should be noted that her commitment to her ideals did not prevent her from developing the aesthetic and artistic qualities of her poetry. Combining content and subject with emotion and imagination lends an engaging and evocative quality to her poetry. As her poetic journey progresses, her work becomes more refined, with her literary artistry gaining greater allure.