The Constitutional Revolution marked the beginning of a new awakening across Iran, especially in Gilan. One of the most profound impacts of this political, social, and intellectual movement was the active participation of women in various spheres of society. Women in Gilan have historically demonstrated high levels of social engagement. Jamʿīyyat-i saʿādat-i nisvān (The society for felicity of women) stands as the first Iranian organization to recognize and celebrate March 8 as International Women’s Day.¹Nāhīd ʿAbd al-Husayn, Zanān-i Īrān dar junbish-i mashrūtah [Iranian women in the constitutional movement] (Tabriz: Ihyāʾ, 1360/1981), 113. “…Therefore, on this day, the 8th of March, the International Women’s Day, the Committee of the Iranian Women’s Organization in Gilan, representing the progressive and organized women of the province—who serve as the voice of hundreds of thousands of marginalized women from Gilan—considers it its right to call upon the honorable representatives of the Fourteenth National Assembly. Relying on the principles of the United Nations Charter and its ratification by the Iranian Parliament, we urge them to pay close attention to the proposed bill of June 1944 put forth by the Tūdah Party faction regarding the equal political and social rights of women. We implore them to leave a lasting legacy by passing the necessary legal measures to establish the political, social, and economic equality of women and men, thereby fulfilling the principles of the United Nations Charter.” —Provincial Committee of the Women’s Organization of Gilan, National Archives of Iran, Document Retrieval Number: 40494-310. The commemoration and celebration of this occasion in the city of Rasht represented the first large-scale social movement of its kind, spearheaded by a group of progressive women who had gathered under the banner of Jamʿīyyat-i saʿādat-i nisvān. Over time, this group became a pioneering force behind a wide range of cultural and social movements that influenced women’s lives in Gilan. Women’s activism in the region was not new. It was rooted in the cultural and social traditions of Gilan. However, with the gradual fracturing of entrenched Qajar-era customs, the scope and visibility of women’s participation increased significantly. Consequently, from the late Constitutional Era onward, with the growing access to education and cultural opportunities, women from Gilan not only participated collectively but also gained individual prominence in cultural and social spheres. Many emerged as distinguished figures in the cultural landscape of Gilan and Iran.

One of these prominent women from Gilan was Ashraf Mishkātī. She came from a renowned family in Langarud. Beyond her innate literary talent, she inherited the art of poetry from her lineage and pursued poetry seriously. Alongside her literary endeavors, she was also deeply engaged in social activism. In terms of poetic style, Mishkātī remained faithful to the traditions of classical Persian poetry. Thematically, her deep attachment to nature and the geography of Gilan is a recurring inspiration in her work. The cities of this region and northern Iran more broadly appear vividly in her poetry. From an intellectual and social perspective, her collection of poetry often centers on themes such as homeland, nationalism, and social issues. In addition to these topics, women’s freedom and rights are among Mishkātī’s central concerns. These issues appear repeatedly in her poetry in various forms.

Mishkātī was not merely a poet of roses, nightingales, and idealized nature. She was a poet with conscious social engagement. Alongside her attention to regional and national matters, she also responded to international events and made a deliberate effort not to remain indifferent to global developments and their social repercussions. Mishkātī composed poetry in a variety of traditional forms, including masnavī (rhyming couplets), rubāʿī (quatrain) and qasīdah (ode), though the ghazal held a particularly special place in her poetic expression. As for literary influences, she drew inspiration from classical Persian poets such as Firdawsī, Saʿdī, and Hāfiz, whose influence is strongly felt in her work. Among modern poets, however, it was Parvīn Iʿtisāmī who had the greatest impact on her. Traces of Iʿtisāmī’s intellectual influence can be clearly observed in Mishkātī’s poetry. Regrettably, Mishkātī has not received the recognition she deserves in the canon of contemporary Iranian poetry. Despite composing over two thousand verses, her ideas and contributions remain largely overlooked.²Ashraf’s Dīvān was privately published in 1347/1968 in a limited edition, yet it remained inaccessible to the public. It was not until 1402/2023, when Dr. Rūhīfar, in collaboration with Sipīdʹrūd Publishing in Rasht, undertook a scholarly effort, that a significant portion of her poetry was made available for publication in Iran. One probable reason for this neglect is the lack of widespread publication of her collected works.

Review of Literature

Brief references to Ashraf Mishkātī appear in several anthologies and biographical compendiums. However, no independent study has yet been devoted to a comprehensive examination of her life, historical context, and intellectual and cultural contributions. This lack of dedicated scholarship may, in part, be attributed to the scarcity of archival records and reliable documentation concerning her life.

Among the few existing sources is Zahrā Rūhīfar’s work titled Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah: Tahlīl va bar′rasī-i ashʿār-i bānū Ashraf Mishkātī Gīlānī (A journey through the hall of mirrors: An analysis and review of the poems of lady Ashraf Mishkātī from Gilan),³Zahrā Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah: Tahlīl va bar′rasī-i ashʿār-i bānū Ashraf Mishkātī Gīlānī (Rasht: Sipīd′rūd, 1402/2023). which was published alongside her collected poems. This book includes brief commentary and analysis of selected poems by Mishkātī. However, the book limits itself to general remarks on her personal life and historical era, offering little in terms of in-depth biographical or contextual insight. Despite these limitations, Rūhīfar does attempt to shed light on Mishkātī’s life, literary and intellectual pursuits, and poetic legacy. She seeks to introduce readers to the literary and cultural persona of this poet, thinker, and advocate for freedom—an esteemed woman from Gilan who was among the early pioneers and leading figures in the women’s emancipation movement in Iran.

In addition to Rūhīfar’s work, there are scattered and mostly cursory mentions of Mishkātī’s life and literary legacy in various other sources. Among these are Tazkirah al-shuʿarāʾ: az nivīsandigān va dānishmandān-i muʿāsir-i Gīlān (The biographical dictionary of poets: Of writers and scholars of contemporary Gilan) by Dāvūd Haqīqat,⁴Dāvūd Haqīqat, Tazkirah al-Shuʿarāʾ: Az nivīsandigān va dānishmandān-i muʿāsir-i Gīlān (Rasht: Haqīqat-i Rasht, n.d), 266. Zanān-i sukhanvār az yik hizār sāl pīsh tā imrūz kih bih zabān-i Fārsī sukhan guftah′and (The eloquent women who have spoken Persian from a thousand years ago until today) by ʿAlī-Akbar Mushīr Salīmī,⁵ʿAlī-Akbar Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvār az yik hizār sāl pīsh tā imrūz kih bih zabān-i Fārsī sukhan guftah′and (Tehran: Muʾassisah-ʾi matbūʿātī-i ʿAlī Akbar ʿIlmī, 1333/1954), 9–12. Sukhan′varān-i nāmī-i muʿāsir-i Īrān (The renowned orators of contemporary Iran) by Muhammad Bāqir Burqaʿī,⁶Muhammad Bāqir Burqaʿī, Sukhan′varān-i nāmī-i muʿāsir-i Īrān (Qom: Khurram, 1373/1994), 267. and Gīlān dar qalam′raw-ī shiʿr va adab (Gilan in the realm of poetry and literature) by Ibrāhīm Fakhrāʾī.⁷Ibrāhīm Fakhrāʾī, Gīlān dar qalam′raw-ʾi shiʿr va adab (Rasht: Tāʿatī 1377/1998), 46. Further brief references to Mishkātī are made by Siyyid Hādī Harīrī in Zanān-i shāʿir-i muʿāsir-i Īrān (Contemporary women poets of Iran)⁸Siyyid Hādī Hāʾirī, Zanān-i shāʿir-i muʿāsir-i Īrān (Tehran: Nashr-i Siyyid Qāsim Hādiyān va Siyyid Dāvūd Mūsavī, 1333/1954). and by ʿAbd al-Rahīm ʿAqīqī Bakhshāyishī in Zanān-i nāmī dar tārīkh, farhang va tamaddun-i Islāmī (Notable women in Islamic history, culture, and civilization).⁹ʿAbd al-Rahīm ʿAqīqī Bakhshāyishī, Zanān-i nāmī dar tārīkh, farhang, va tamaddun-i Islāmī (Qom: Navīd-i Islām, 1382/ 2003). Notably, Bakhshāyishī identifies Mishkātī’s first name as Maʿsūmah, and does so without citing any sources. Abbās Pūr Malik Ārā also contributes material on Mishkātī’s poetic characteristics and biographical profile in issue no. 6 of the Gīlah′vā magazine.¹⁰Abbās Pūr Malik Ārā, “Zanān-i sukhanvar-i Gīlān: Ashaf Mishkātī” [Women orators from Gilan: Ashraf Mishkātī], Gīlah′vā 6 (Day 1371/January 1992): 20–21. Similarly, Pūrān Farrukh′zād provides a general account of Mishkātī in Kār′namā-yi zanān-i kārā-yi Īrān: Az dīrūz tā imrūz (The achievements of Iranian women: From the past to the present).¹¹Pūrān Farrukhzād, Kār′namā-yi zanān-i kārā-yi Īrān, az dīrūz tā imrūz (Tehran: Qatrah, 1381/2002), 755. Additionally, the local weekly Sāyibān magazine, which published only two issues in the 1330s/1950s, dedicated its second issue to Mishkātī. Unfortunately, no surviving copy of this issue appears to be available.¹²Muhammad Āzarmand and ʿAbd al-Husayn Malik′zādah, Haftah′nāmah Sāyibān (Rasht, 1330/1951).

Ashraf Mishkātī’s Life and Time

Mishkātī, pen-named “Ashraf,” was born in Tehran to Hāj Mīrzā ʿAlī-Akbar Khān Mishkūyah al-Saltanah and Hājiyah Maryam Khānūm Navvāb Mutaʿālīyah Munajjimī.¹³There is a scholarly disagreement regarding the birth year of Ashraf  Mishkātī. Muhammad Bāqir Burqaʿī has recorded it as 1290/1911 while ʿAlī-Akbar Mushīr Salīmī has stated 1294/1915. Dāvūd Haqīqat has mentioned 1296/1917, whereas Zahrā Rūhīfar has noted 1286/1907. Mishkātī’s maternal lineage traces back to Fath-ʿAlī Shāh Qajar. She inherited her poetic talent from her mother, a learned woman who was both a poet and a calligrapher of her time. Her grandmother, Shāh Jahān Khānūm, was the daughter of Fath ʿAlī Shāh-i Qajar and the wife of ʿAbd al-Bāqī Khān Munajjim Bāshī, who was versed in astronomy and mathematics.¹⁴See “Ashraf Mishkūtī Gīlānī,” accessed May 19, 2025, http://www.ashrafmeshkati.com/biography/. From an early age, Mishkātī composed poetry and exhibited a refined and sensitive nature. She attended her first years of secondary school at Nāmūs High School in Tehran and later moved to Paris for further education, where she learned French and Arabic. She also traveled to Russia, Germany, and Belgium.¹⁵Hāʾirī, Zanān-i shāʿir-i muʿāsir-i Īrān, 11. Upon her return to Iran, she pursued a career in teaching and worked as a literature instructor in schools, where she received repeated praise from the Ministry of Culture.¹⁶ʿAbd al-Rahīm ʿAqīqī Bakhshāyishī, Zanān-i nāmī dar tārīkh, farhang, va tamaddun-i Islāmī, 399.

Mishkātī was also an advocate for the women’s liberation movement and a prominent figure in the cultural activities of her time. She regularly delivered speeches at the annual celebrations organized by the “Iranian Women’s Association” (Kānūn-i Bānūvān-i Īrān) in the Hall of Culture (Tālār-i Farhangī), reciting her poems related to the event. In her poetry, she followed the styles of great poets such as Firdawsī, Hāfiz, Saʿdī, and Rūmī, as well as contemporary poets like Parvīn Iʿtisāmī, Nīmā Yūshīj, Malik al-Shuʿarāʾ Bahār, and Parvīz Khānlarī. Her poems were published in newspapers of the time, such as Parvarish, Fikr-i javān, Ittilāʿāt, Āftāb-ī sharq, Īrān-i naw, and Kitāb-ī asrār-i khilqat.

Based on the poems she wrote in support of unveiling and women’s freedom, it is evident that she felt a sense of pride in the Iranian women’s movement, regarding it as a sign of progress for women’s rights. Mishkātī composed a poem in support of unveiling, which she recited in the presence of Reza Shah at the Bāshgāh-i Afsarān (Officers’ Club) in Rasht. She is said to have faced significant resistance from the opponents of unveiling.¹⁷See “Ashraf Mishkūtī Gīlānī,” accessed May 19, 2025, http://www.ashrafmeshkati.com/biography/.

Most of Mishkātī’s poetry centers on moral and social themes, with a particular focus on freedom and women’s rights. In her masnavī “Sifīd va siyāh” (White and black), she voices a powerful protest against the racist ideologies of contemporary American society and expressed admiration for Martin Luther King’s ideas.¹⁸Martin Luther King was a leader of the Civil Rights Movement for African Americans. Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 82. Similarly, in her ghazals “Mā nisvān” (We women) and “Tawq-i bandigī” (The shackles of servitude), she encourages women to rise and resist the oppression and injustice they faced.

Mishkātī’s poems were later compiled in a collection titled Tālār-i āyinah (The hall of mirrors).¹⁹Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah (Tehran: Tihrān-i Mussavar, 1351/1972). The book opens with the evocative poem “Bih nām-i Khudā” (In the name of God), a masnavī composed in the style of the great poet Firdawsī. In another masnavī titled “Firdawsī,” Mishkātī expresses her deep admiration for this iconic Iranian poet, written in honor of the millennium of his birth.

In 1330/1951, Mishkātī entered a competition organized by Iran-Pakistan Literary Association with her poem “Barf va zughāl” (Snow and charcoal). She won first place among 700 participants, receiving an award from the association.²⁰Burqaʿī, Sukhan′varān-i nāmī-yi muʿāsir-i Īrān, 267. Known for her remarkable improvisational abilities, she continued to demonstrate literary excellence. In 1347/1968, she again took part in the association’s activities, composing a ghazal in tribute to the celebrated poet Iqbāl Lāhūrī.

Mishkātī spent much of her life in Gilan, in the village of Qasimabad, a district of Rudsar County, where she resided on her inherited estate, Afshār′sarā. There, she devoted herself to gardening, reading, and composing poetry. However, her distance from the capital and lack of engagement with the literary circles limited her visibility in contemporary literary circles, and she remained largely unrecognized by major literary figures of the time. After retiring, Mishkātī moved to the United States and settled in Washington, D.C., where she occasionally participated in events organized by the Iranian American Literary Society and the Husayni Center of Washington. She died in 1368/1989 in Washington. In accordance with her will, Mishkātī’s body was laid to rest in Qom, in her family’s mausoleum, beside her father’s grave.²¹Farrukh′zād, Kār′namā-yi zanān-i kārā-yi Īrān, 755.

Over the course of her life, Mishkātī was married twice—first to Mīrzā Yūsuf Khān Munajjimī, and later to Ghulām Rizā Razzāq. Both unions ultimately ended in divorce. She had six children—Maryam, Gītī, Mīnā, Mītrā, Khusraw, and Parvīz—all of whom went on to distinguish themselves in the fields of art and literature.²²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 21–31; Haqīqat, Tazkirah al-Shuʿarāʾ, 266; Burqaʿī, Sukhan′varān-i nāmī-yi muʿāsir-i Īrān, 267; Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvār, 9–10; Fakhrāʾī, Gīlān dar qalam′raw-ī shiʿr va adab, 46.

The Influence of Intellectual Currents on Mishkātī’s Thought and Poetry

Ashraf Mishkātī can be regarded as a product of the intellectual and elite-nurturing movement that arose from the Constitutional Revolution of Iran and the early years of the Pahlavi era. The Constitutional Movement, which emerged from the encounter between Iran’s insular, traditional society and the progressive Western world of the time, led to a recalibration of patriarchal attitudes and a transformation in the discourse surrounding women’s issues. This intellectual and social shift was a direct consequence of the Constitutional Revolution, itself rooted in the broader intellectual awakening that followed extensive exchanges between Iranians and Western civilization. These encounters introduced sweeping changes, exposing Iran to the forces of modernity.²³Yahyā Āryanpūr, Az Sabā tā Nīmā [From Sabā to Nīmā] (4th repr. ed., Tehran: Zavvār, 1382/2003), 3:6–11. As a result, Iranians influenced by Western modernity endeavored to initiate an intellectual movement aimed at transforming a society that was grappling with despotism and cultural and economic deprivation.²⁴ʿAbd al-Hādī Hāʾirī, Nakhustīn rūyā′rūyī-i andīshah′garān-i Īrān bā dū rūyah-ʾi tamaddun-i burjūʾāzī-i gharb [The first encounters of Iranian thinkers with two facets of Western bourgeois civilization] (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1402/2023), 15. The stark contrast between Iranian and European lifestyles left a profound impression on these intellectuals and prompted deep reflection. Upon their return to Iran, they became fervent advocates for the implementation of modern political and social ideals modeled on Western paradigms. With the triumph of the Constitutional Revolution, Iran’s socio-political landscape began to shift. Intellectuals fostered closer ties with the general populace, while artists and poets cultivated a deep sense of empathy and solidarity with the lower and oppressed classes, infusing their poetry with political and social consciousness.²⁵Hūshang ʿAbbāsī, Dar′āmadī bar adabiyāt-i Gīlakī [An introduction to Gilaki literature] (Rasht: Farhang-i Īliyā, 1389/2010), 19.

Meanwhile, the status of women in Western societies inspired a number of progressive and enlightened Iranian women—particularly those engaged in poetry and literature, and often from the upper echelons of society—to draw attention to the condition of European women, thereby fostering new awareness, expectations, and aspirations among Iranian women. Among these women was Mishkātī, who championed freedom and gave voice to women oppressed under a patriarchal order, emerging as one of the earliest advocates of the women’s liberation movement.²⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 32.

Ashraf was once among the wise       

A woman of noble and freeborn lineage²⁷Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvār, 9.

Although Mishkātī herself came from an affluent and privileged background, never having experienced injustice or the hardships of poverty, she could not remain indifferent to the inequalities, injustices, and oppression inflicted upon the marginalized, particularly women, by the wealthy and powerful classes. Upon arriving in the United States in 1347/1968, Mishkātī was deeply moved by the stark social inequalities between white and black Americans, as well as the social protests led by Martin Luther King. In response, she composed a poem protesting the prevailing conditions in America. In the conclusion of the poem, she alludes to the famous lines of Saʿdī, expressing the belief that “Human beings are members of a whole.”²⁸Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 87. This poem, along with other works in her collection that address the theme of ending discrimination, underscores her progressive and modern outlook.

Mishkātī’s poetry consistently reflects her sensitive and critical perspective on the social and political issues of her time. She repeatedly condemns the oppressors and tyrants of her era, denouncing them for their cruelty and injustice. In an era when patriarchal and misogynistic ideologies were deeply entrenched in Iran, Mishkātī’s travels to Europe exposed her to a different reality: women in Western societies enjoyed equal rights and intellectual freedom. Inspired by this newfound awareness, she returned to Iran determined to champion the women’s liberation movement. Through her poem “Tawq-i bandigī,” she called on Iranian women to unite and strive for their human rights and equality with men—symbolically shedding the shackles that Western women had freed themselves from through awareness and thought. Earlier, she had written “Mā nisvān” to inspire Iranian women to resist the oppression and injustice imposed upon them by the patriarchal structures of their society.²⁹Pūr Malik Ārā, “Zanān-i sukhanvar-i Gīlān: Ashraf Mishkātī”: 20.

The Influence of Classical and Contemporary Poets on Mishkātī

Mishkātī had a deep interest in studying the works of her predecessors, to the extent that she memorized and internalized much of their poetry. This dedication led her to adopt the poetic style of earlier masters.³⁰Farrukh′zād, Kār′namā-yi zanān-i kārā-yi Īrān, 755. She devoted significant time to immersing herself in the writings of luminaries such as Firdawsī, Hāfiz, Saʿdī, and Mawlānā. Not only did she emulate their poetic techniques in her own verse, but she was also influenced by their thoughts, themes, and literary content. Her entire Dīvān reflects the lexical and stylistic echoes of these celebrated figures of Persian literature.³¹Mishkātī, Dīvān-i ashʿār-i Ashraf Mishkātī [Collected poems of Ashraf Mishkātī], ed. Muhammad Hasan Siyyidān (Tehran: Bunyād-i Muqūfāt-i Duktur Mahmūd Afshār, 1373/1994).

Mishkātī held Firdawsī in particularly high regard, drawing the most profound inspiration from him among all the poets. The masnavī form stands as the most prominent poetic structure in the Tālār-i āyinah collection, where she extensively employs this classical genre to articulate her thoughts, emotions, and beliefs. Despite her evident indebtedness to many of the great poets of Persian literature, Mushīr Salīmī regards her as a follower of Saʿdī.³²Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvār, 9. In a manner reminiscent of Firdawsī, Mishkātī commences her masnavī with an invocation to God.

Bih nām-i khudāvand-i jān va khirad

Kaz-īn bartar andīshah bar na-gzarad

In the Name of the God of life and intellect            

Beyond this, no thought can surpass³³Firdawsī, Shāh′nāmah, ed. E. Bertel’s (Moscow: Idārah-ʾi Intishārāt-i Adabiyāt-i Khāvar, 1960), 1:12.

Bih nām-i khudāvand-i daryā va mihr

Padīdāvar-i lājvardī-i sipihr

In the name of the God of the sea and love            

Creator of the lapis lazuli sky³⁴Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 95.

The instructive masnavī “Nagīn-i girān′māyah” (The precious gem), with its linguistic solidity, mature vocabulary, and skillful use of literary devices, evokes the refined poetry of Firdawsī.³⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 38, 43, 86.

In another instance of literary homage, Mishkātī draws upon the meter, rhyme, structure, and thematic content of Nāsir-i Khusraw’s poem “Bār-i dānish” (The fruit of knowledge) and composed “Shīvah-ʾi mahtarī” (The manner of chieftainship).

Hāfiz, the great Persian ghazal poet of the AH 8th/14th century, was also a significant influence on Mishkātī. His ideas and poetic style served as a model for her own ghazals. As Rūhīfar notes, “The similarity between Ashraf’s ghazals and those of Hāfiz lies in the artistic use of verbs and the musicality of her verses. She occasionally draws upon words from the ghazals of masters such as Hāfiz and Saʿdī, and through her own linguistic and rhetorical skill, she amplifies the impact of her words on the reader’s mind.”³⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 89. For example, in her beautiful and enchanting ghazal “Bulūrʹdukān,” Mishkātī borrows the iconic phrase Alā yā ayyuhā al-sāqī (O cupbearer…) from Hāfiz’s first ghazal and uses it in the opening verse of her own:

O cupbearer, bring that essence of life

For I have wandered far from my companions in these mountains and deserts³⁷Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 86.

In another ghazal, Mishkātī borrows the phrase silsilah-ʾi mūy-i dūst (The chain-like tress of the beloved) from Hāfiz’s ghazal:

The chain-like tress of the beloved has stolen my rest

And now my life is burdened with sorrow and unrest³⁸Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 87.

The model for Mishkātī’s ghazal “Ay kāsh” (I wish) is undoubtedly the exquisite ghazal by Hāfiz, which includes the following lines:

May your beauty ever grow,

And your face, each year, like tulips glow³⁹Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 87.

Mishkātī’s response echoes this style:

I wish your gaze would fall on me

And your heart would know my misery⁴⁰Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 65.

Her ghazal “Nigār-i man” (My idol) also constitutes a complete tazmīn (quotation) from Hāfiz’s ghazal.⁴¹The ghazal by Hāfiz begins with Sitārah′ī bi-dirakhshīd va māh-i majlis shud / Dil-i ramīdah-ʾi mā rā rafīq va mūnis shud (“A star shone brightly and became the moon of the gathering; it became a friend and companion to our restless heart”). Shams al-Dīn Muhammad Hāfiz Shīrāzī, Dīvān, ed. Qāsim Ghanī and Muhammad Qazvīnī (Tehran: Zavvār, 1320/1941), 113. Moreover, the ideas expressed in Mishkātī’s “Bāgh′bān va gul” (The gardener and the rose) resonate with the sentiment found in Hāfiz’s renowned ghazal that opens with:

If the gardener delights in the rose for but five fleeting days 

The nightingale must bleed long from separation’s thorn⁴²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 58, 86, 93, 115, 132, 136. This poem is an example of tazmīn of a ghazal by Hāfiz, and the verses of Hāfiz’s ghazal are used as a refrain between the stanzas of this ghazal. Sample poem by Ashraf: Nigār-i man kih dar dāmash asīram / Nabāshad ghayr-i fikrash dar zamīram / Chih khvush ān dam kih dar fikrash bimīram / Bi-tīgham gar zanad dastash nagīram / Va gar tīram zanad minnat pazīram (My beloved, in whose snare I am trapped / No thought but hers is in my mind / How sweet is the moment I die in her thought! / If she strikes me with her arrow, I will not defend myself / And if she shoots her arrow at me, I will accept it gratefully). See Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 136.

Saʿdī, the renowned AH 7th/13th-century Persian poet, was another literary figure whose poetic style, particularly in the ghazal form, exerted a notable influence on Mishkātī. In composing her moralistic masnavī “Nigīn-i girān′māyah” (The precious gem), Mishkātī draws not only upon the epic grandeur of Firdawsī’s poetry but also from the ethical and didactic tone of Saʿdī’s Būstān.⁴³Mushīr Salīmī, Zanān-i sukhanvār az yak hizār sāl pīsh tā imrūz kih bih zabān-i Fārsī sukhan guftah′and, 9. Her elegant ghazal “Afsūs” (Alas) is a complete tazmīn of a ghazal by Saʿdī, from which one couplet is quoted below. Likewise, in “Dil′dādah-ʾi daryā” (Lover of the sea), considered one of her finest ghazals, the stylistic and thematic influence of Saʿdī’s celebrated ghazal is both evident and undeniable.⁴⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah: Tahlīl va barrasī-i ashʿār-i bānū Ashraf Mishkātī Gīlānī, 86, 102–103, 136.

Vaqtī dil-i sawdā-yī mī′raft bih būstān′hā

Bī khvīsh-tanam kardī bū-yi gul va rayhān′hā

When my restless heart wandered to the gardens

The scent of flowers and basil made me lose myself⁴⁵Mushrif al-Dīn Muslih Saʿdī Shīrāzī, Ghazalīyāt in Kulliyāt-i Saʿdī, ed. Muhammad ʿAlī Furūghī (Tehran, Burūkhīm, 1318/1937), 13.

Mā-rā kih tū mī’bīnī būdīm nah insān′hā

Bad qāmat-i man sarvī dar tarf-i gulistān′hā

When you look at us, we were not mere humans

My slender figure was a cypress in the gardens⁴⁶Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 72.

Mishkātī also drew inspiration from the works of Rūmī, the great mystical poet of the AH 7th/13th century. Her “Bāgh′bān va gul” reflects this influence. In addition to being inspired by Hāfiz’s ghazals, Mishkātī was influenced by Rūmī’s Masnavī. The similarity between Mishkātī’s “Bāgh′bān va gul” and Rūmī’s masnavīs lies primarily in theme and content, both of which emphasize detachment from the ephemeral world. Furthermore, one of Mishkātī’s ghazals, titled “Dil” (Heart), bears a notable resemblance to Rūmī’s ghazal in terms of melody, structural balance, and thematic resonance:⁴⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 28, 58.

Go, O friends, fetch the beloved to me

Bring me for a moment the elusive idol

While this discussion focuses on those whose impact on Mishkātī’s poetry was most significant, she was certainly influenced by other prominent poets as well. For example, Mishkātī’s masnavīs and ghazals at times evoke the eloquence and beauty of verses by Manūchihrī Dāmghānī and Khāqānī Shirvānī.⁴⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 132. Additionally, her poetic dialogue “Abr va gul” (Cloud and flower) bears thematic and conceptual resemblance to the dialogue “Māhī va āb” (Fish and water) by Vahshī Bāfqī.⁴⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 47, 55.

In addition to classical poets, Mishkātī was also influenced by some of her contemporaries, most notably Parvīn Iʿtisāmī. Both poets belonged to the same literary period, and since poets of the same era often share stylistic parallels, distinguishing between their works is not always straightforward. The similarity between Mishkātī’s and Iʿtisāmī’s poetry is particularly noticeable in their poetic dialogues, with both composing a piece with the same title and theme: “Gul va khār” (The flower and the thorn).⁵⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 22, 51.

Know you not, O Sun, who embody greatness and might

That you grieve the heart of the lesser?⁵¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 194.

Some of the poems in Tālār-i āyinah evoke the poetry of Īraj Mīrzā, particularly the poem “Mihr-i mādar” (Mother’s love), which, in its vocabulary, literary form, and thematic content, clearly demonstrates the influence of Īraj Mīrzā’s poem “Mādar” (Mother) on Mishkātī’s work.

An aged mother had a youthful son 

Who paid no mind to what his aged mother would command⁵²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 183.

Mishkātī’s masnavī “Kinār-i sāhil-i daryā” (By the shore of the sea) recalls a poem by Īraj Mīrzā with a similar theme, in which a lover travels with his beloved:

One lover journeyed with his beloved

And passed by the shore of the sea⁵³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 159.

In her poem “Murghak-i pāy’bastah” (The tied bird), Mishkātī engages with a ghazal by Rahī Muʿayyirī, which opens with the following lines:

Without you, I am like branch torn away

A crop struck down by blight and decay⁵⁴Mishkātī, Tālār-i āyinah, 63.

Based on this ghazal, Mishkātī composes a poetic imitation, writing:

Without you, I am like a broken branch 

Like a bird with its feet bound⁵⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 125.

Mishkātī’s Poetic Style

Vocabulary
Ashraf Mishkātī, influenced by the great poets of Persian literature, makes extensive use of refined and frequently employed literary vocabulary commonly found in other poetic collections (sg. dīvān). The central theme of her lyrical poetry isʿishq (love), with the rest of the vocabulary in her poetry organized around and serving to express this concept:

Love has returned and gripped my heart

It has returned and once again longed for you⁵⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 254.

Alongside the theme of love, the motif of lamenting the beloved’s betrayal figures prominently in her poetry. In many of her verses, she expresses sorrow over the beloved’s cruelty, which leads to separation and longing.

I said, “What treachery you are! Alas, the sorrow of separation!”

The dew upon the petals turned to tears from her eyes.⁵⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 242.

O unfaithful beloved, so deep was your cruelty

What hope remains? How can I trust your vows and promises?⁵⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 249.

Alas, the rose’s betrayal weighs heavy on my heart

What strength have I to bear the rose’s parting?⁵⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 171.

In Mishkātī’s poems, the beloved, at times symbolizing God and frequently referred to as jānān (beloved), appears with notable frequency:

I have given my soul to the path of the Beloved

Have mercy, for I have fallen.⁶⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 180.

I took the bird of my heart to the Beloved’s abode

How deep is my soul’s pain from the separation of my body. ⁶¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 104.

If we depart from the street of the Beloved

It is with hope we journey toward the Truth⁶²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 105.

In most of Mishkātī’s poems, the depiction of nature holds a special place. The beautiful natural landscape of northern Iran—her place of refuge—and the influence of Persian-speaking poets have contributed to the frequent presence of nature-related vocabulary in her verses. Influenced by her literary predecessors, Mishkātī employs a rich lexicon that includes words such as bāgh (garden), būstān (garden), chaman (meadow), gulzār (rose garden), nakhl (palm tree), as well as names of a variety of flowers like gul-i surkh (red rose), sūsan (lily), yāsaman (jasmine), arghavān (redbuds or Judas-tree), nargis (daffodil), among others, feature prominently in her poetry.

What flower could compare to your precious world?

Neither the daffodil, nor the jasmine, and nor the Judas-tree⁶³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 221.

Ashraf, behold what a bounty of blossoms is offered in honor of your arrival  Daffodil and wild rose, blooming in abundance tonight⁶⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 217.

Friends, drink wine, for it is Farvardīn

The season of dogrose, jasmine and wild rose⁶⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 225.

One of the frequently recurring elements of Mishkātī’s poetry is the use of floral imagery like tuberose (Polianthes tuberosa) and daisy (Leucanthemum), which symbolically refer to the names of her children.

There are daisies, lilies, and tuberoses

Be my cypress, tall and grand⁶⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 263.

It is the season of roses, tuberoses, and lilies

Our hearts long to behold the blossoms⁶⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 219.

This delightful fragrance, so sweet from the tuberose

Perhaps it emanates from your dark, scented hair⁶⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 235.

In addition to the frequency of floral and verdant imagery, references to the sea and the shore are also prominent in her poetry. These motifs reflect the geographical landscape surrounding her place of residence in Gilan (near the Caspian Sea). The natural environment clearly shaped the lexicon and imagery of her work:

I shall make my eyes the sea for the sake of your delight

But if you never pass by the shore, what am I to do?⁶⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 248.

I said, “O heart, let us turn toward the shore”

That night, the moon and the sea remembered us once more⁷⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 198.

My heart sits waiting at the crossroads

Longing for your arrival by the sea’s edge⁷¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 249.

From this perspective, Mishkātī praises the city of Gilan for its breathtaking natural beauty.

Blessed be that verdant meadow and plain of Gilan

Where is a city that could rival Gilan?

Oh, how joyous the day I shall sit once more

By the shores of Gilan’s boundless sea
Tuberose, lily, aptenia

And daisy are the treasures of Gilan⁷²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 257.

O pure and gentle north, my greetings to your land

To Gilan’s fair city, to its gardens grand
To the roaring sea and the golden sand

To your ever-raining skies, a salute so grand⁷³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 238.

In addition to Gilan, Mishkātī also evokes various cities in her poetry, recalling personal memories and impressions tied to each place.

Washington, like Gilan, is lush and green

A land of boundless grace, a sight serene⁷⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 287.

Paris, the city of love, more dazzling than before

A fair young bride among nations evermore⁷⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 286.

Chalus, here we stand, so near to Shahsavar

The autumn season here is like spring reborn

A hundred memories come to mind from the city of Shahsavar

Every corner of this city is a memento of a friend⁷⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 231.

In addition to the presence of specific place names in Mishkātī’s poetry, certain new words, in line with the themes of her work and the era in which she wrote, also appear throughout her work. This incorporation of modern vocabulary, alongside the frequent use of traditional Persian literary language, lends her poetry a distinctive freshness. Words such as tayyārah (airplane), māshīn (car), and duktur (doctor) are among the modern terms found in her verse:

Would that the earth belonged to your car

That face I see, may it be your radiant visage⁷⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 235.

Such language echoes again in the poetry of the time:⁷⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 240.

Board the airplane and come to me

Be the beloved of my sky-like face

Forever, eternally joyful

Stay beside me, O noble doctor⁷⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 263.

The intersection of classical and modern vocabulary is striking in the following verse:

The difference between my beloved’s distance and yours, O Saʿdī,

Is the swiftness of the airplane and the slow pace of the litter⁸⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 22.

One of the commonly used words of her time is the word khushgil (beautiful or lovely), which appears frequently in her poetry.

It is spring, so cast your gaze upon the garden

The garden’s courtyard has become as lovely as a beautiful garment⁸¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 255.

In addition to incorporating specific place names in her poetry, Mishkātī integrates personal names, reflecting her deep affection for her family and friends. This practice not only personalizes her work but also adds a unique and original dimension to her verses. For example, she addresses her sister with poignant verses:

O sister, why do you now rest in the heart of the earth?

You who once comforted me, the adornment of my days yet unfulfilled! ⁸²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 207.

In another touching tribute, Mishkātī dedicates a poem to her friend Louisa:

This poem, O Louisa, is now for you

Tonight, the petals of roses have turned into offerings at your feet⁸³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 209.

She also expresses sympathy for a grieving friend:

O Lord, in the grief of Bāqir

Bestow upon Nāhīd your solace and patience⁸⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 208.

The arrival of a dear friend brings her joy:

May I be healed at last of pain and sorrow

For dear Giti has come to see me once more⁸⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 214.

Mishkātī’s admiration for her friend Maryam is evident:

O Maryam, you are like the tuberose

God hath adorned you with purity⁸⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 222.

Among the words introduced in Mishkātī’s poetry that are rarely found in the works of other poets are shūkh va shang (playful and lively), shināgar (swimmer), shukulāt (chocolate), king, and pāchīdah (scattered/sprinkled). Each term has been incorporated into her verses in harmony with the thematic context.

By God, my beautiful tulip

My playful and lively daffodil and jasmine!⁸⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 171.

Silver dust has scattered upon the earth

The old mother, the firmament, has worn the individual away⁸⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 154.

The blackened one, like a king, is superior

Among hundreds of whites, he alone stands above⁸⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 206.

A doll and two boxes of chocolate

A gift the mother brought back from her journey⁹⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 184.

With dear Media, I would become a swimmer

In the heart of the ocean’s waves—oh, what a cherished memory!⁹¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 234.

Literary Devices

Like many other Persian poets, Mishkātī makes extensive use of rhetorical devices, which enhance the elegance and artistic quality of her poetry. Among these, the most frequently used is simile (tashbīh). In the following lines, she uses similes to express purity and spiritual detachment:

Free from the adornments of the world

Pure, like the radiant sun, we move forward⁹²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 250.

She also draws on the imagery of nature and divine love to convey depth of feeling:

No palm has borne fruit more abundant

Than the palm of love in the world of His creation⁹³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 244.

Drawing on classical themes, she compares separation from the beloved to the legendary departure of the Queen of Sheba:

You leave me like the morning breeze (sabā, or the Queen of Sheba) to go to Solomon

Go, my friend, for he is Solomon, and you are (the Queen of) Sheba⁹⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 244.

Mishkātī’s metaphors follow the tradition of classical Persian poets, and the use of innovative or unusual metaphors is less prominent. Common metaphorical elements in her verses include sarv (cypress) as a symbol for the beloved’s stature, nargis (daffodil) as a metaphor for the beloved’s eyes, and māh (moon) as a representation of the beloved’s face. These metaphors, which are used abundantly in her poetry, are employed with both emotional resonance and aesthetic grace. For example, in expressing longing and separation, Mishkātī draws the moon into the verse, and in describing the beloved’s beauty and presence in the natural world, she writes:

Both the charm of my rose garden and the splendor of the meadow

That graceful stature of his, that enchanting daffodil of his

At night, I seek tidings of his face from the moon in the sky

I ask the cypress of the garden about the graceful stature of my beloved⁹⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 253.

In imagining reunion and hope, she writes:

If only you would suddenly appear, so I might behold the radiance of your moon-like face

And with the union of your luminous face, you would open the door to fortune⁹⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 251.

In one notable example, a novel metaphor appears in her poetry.

O iron bird, for your heart too is made of iron

The one you carry away is my moon-faced flower⁹⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 166.

Here, the “iron bird” serves as a metaphor for an airplane that separates her from a loved one. This image reflects a creative engagement with modern themes while maintaining poetic sensibility.

One of the striking aesthetic elements in her poetry is repetition. This includes the repetition of phonemes, words, and phrases, often used in the form of radīf (refrain). This device contributes to the musicality and emotional impact of her verses and appears frequently across some of her poems. For example, in a verse that emphasizes omnipresence and spiritual unity, she writes:

          Har kujā rū āvaram bīnam tūʾī

          Ham tūʾī ham ghayr-i tū bātil shudah

Wherever I turn, I find you there

You are both the one and, beyond you, all else is false⁹⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 255.

Another example, rich in repetition and thematic intensity, expresses love, devotion, and surrender:

          Yār-i siyah’chashmān tūʾī, marjān-i man sultan tūʾī

          Farmāndih-ʾi farmān tūʾī, man bandah-ʾi farmān-i tū

You, the dark-eyed beloved, are my coral; you are the sultan

You are the commander of command, and I am the servant of your command⁹⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 249.

In the following verse, repetition adds to the visual beauty and poetic rhythm as Mishkātī describes the beloved’s hair:

          Khudāvandī kih zulf-i yār-i mā-rā

          Shikan andar shikan andar shikan kard

The Lord who fashioned the locks of our beloved

With fold upon fold upon fold¹⁰⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 193.

The repetition of phrases serves as a notable stylistic feature in Mishkātī’s poetry. The phrase khabar dārī (do you know) recurs throughout many verses of this poem, har kujā hastam (wherever I am) appears repeatedly in the poem “Āsmān va akhtar va māh-i man-ī” (You are my sky, my star, my moon). The refrain bīchārah mādar (poor mother) is used to powerful emotional effect in the poem of the same title. These repeated elements reinforce the emotional intensity and musical rhythm of her work.

Another prominent literary device in Mishkātī’s poetry is talmīh (allusion), the reference to well-known stories or narratives. It is another technique that poets employ to enhance the aesthetic quality of their poems. While many poets utilize this device to deepen the resonance of their verse, what distinguishes Mishkātī is that her talmīhs predominantly revolve around the tales of Yūsuf and Zulaykhā (Yūsuf va Zulaykhā) and Laylī and Majnūn (Laylī va Majnūn). These well-established love stories from Persian literary tradition provide a rich intertextual layer to her work. For example, Mishkātī draws on the pathos of the Yūsuf and Zulaykhā story in the following verses:

Zulaykhā, they are selling your Yūsuf

Have you passed through the marketplace or not?¹⁰¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 254.

Alas, never again did Zulaykhā behold

That moon of Canaan, now lost from her sight¹⁰²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 236.

My heart, like that long-vanished child

Falls into longing for the moon of Canaan

O Lord, tell Zulaykhā

Why Joseph has been cast into prison¹⁰³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 218.

In several verses, Mishkātī draws on the emotional depth of the stories. The recurrence of this allusion in numerous poems, including “Bihisht-i Zahrā” (The garden of Zahrā), “Khūn kunam dilam” (I will make my heart bleed), “Māh va daryā” (The moon and the sea), “Dīlʹdādah-ʾi daryā” (Lover of the sea), “Bulūr′dukān,” “Bā man az dar va javāhir′hā bigū” (Speak to me of doors and jewels), “Zanjīr-i havādis” (The chain of events), “Khvāb-i parīshān” (Disturbed dream), and “Tanhā dilam” (Only my heart). One example of this allusion appears in the following verse:

I am certain that, in the end, like Majnūn

You will cast me into the desert, mad with love¹⁰⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 134.

Tazād (antithesis) is another stylistic device employed by Mishkātī, as by many Persian poets, to enhance the artistic quality of her verse. Through stark contrasts, she conveys complexity, tension, and layered meaning. Consider the following examples:

You turn others’ homes into rose gardens,

While friends sit in darkness, enemies shine in light

Oil, O you who kindle homes

Oil, O you who burn down households
Oil, the source of joy for all

Oil, both death and life to all¹⁰⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 163.

Time passed like a troubled dream

At times difficult, at times easy¹⁰⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 236.

When you reflect on human lives, the wheel of fate is ever turning

At times it smiles with love, and at times it strikes with hatred¹⁰⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 226.

Rhyme (Qāfiyah) and Refrain (Radīf)

Mishkātī’s poems, including her fragments (sg. qitʿah), ghazals, and quatrains (sg. rubāʿī), are marked by technically sound rhyming. She adheres to correct rhyme schemes, avoiding structural flaws. One of her notable poetic innovations lies in her creative use of extended and sometimes unique refrain (radīf). In her ghazals, she employs extended, fluid, and idiomatic refrains drawn from the vernacular of her time, which enhances the literary and aesthetic value of her work. For example, the phrase agar bugzārad (if it allows) functions as a refrain in a poem of the same title:

I will cover my eyes from that curly hair

If the morning breeze allows it¹⁰⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 237.

Similarly, in the poem “Māh va sitārah” (The Moon and the star), Mishkātī uses az mā salām bādat (may our salutations be upon you) in the poem “Māh va sitārah” (The Moon and the star):

My dear Mītrā, may our salutations be upon you

I am sorrowful from your separation; may our salutations be upon you¹⁰⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 226.

The phrase dil bih man hargiz maband (never bind your heart to mine) appears as the refrain in a poem of the same name:

I am from a distant land, never bind your heart to mine

If I have set my heart on you, never bind your heart to mine¹¹⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 239.

In the poem “Rasm-i shab” (The custom of the night), the word mast (drunken) is beautifully employed as a refrain:

Last night, I went toward my beloved, to the garden, while drunken

I saw him in the garden, lying in a corner, my drunken beloved¹¹¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 219.

The word daryā (sea), which recurs frequently throughout Mishkātī’s poetry, appears as a refrain in a ghazal of the same title:

I have come back to your side, O sea

To be your lover and companion, O sea¹¹²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 213.

In another poem, addressed to Māndānā, Mishkātī uses her name in a shortened form (Māndī) as the refrain:

Ashraf has remained sorrowful from your separation, dear Māndī  

And has become weary from your absence, dear Māndī ¹¹³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 245.

Content of Mishkātī’s Poetry

A significant portion of Mishkātī’s poetry is dedicated to her relatives, with each ghazal or piece crafted in response to specific circumstances, reflecting her deep affection and attachment to them. Among these, the theme of mother appears most frequently. Mishkātī composed poems such as “Vafā-yi mādar” (The mother’s loyalty), “Bīchārah mādar” (Poor mother), “Bih yād-i mādar” (In memory of mother), and “Āsmān” (The sky), all of which mourn and honor her mother.

The mother, who is the hope of my life

Is the beloved of the God of the heavens.¹¹⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 228.

Mishkātī often refers to her children or the distance from them in many of her verses, using their names as the subject of her poetry:

Speak of tuberosa (Maryam) and daisy (Mīnā)

Speak of the rosy face of dear Gītī¹¹⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 195.

Tell my dear Khusraw and Parvīz

My heart spoke to me of them a hundred tales.

From the union with my sweet Mītrā and Āyd
My God has bestowed great kindness upon me¹¹⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 193.

I wish to see Maryam (tuberosa) and Mīnā (daisy) in the world (Gītī)

The very flowers I once nurtured, now I gather

May I once more behold the cypress in the garden

And gaze upon the stature and grace of dear Khusraw ¹¹⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 205.

Without you, beauty lends no grace to this home, O Gītī

The house is splendid, yet its true radiance was you.¹¹⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 251.

Mishkātī frequently references her brother in her poetry. She composed the elegy “Iʿtisām āmadah” (Iʿtisām has come) in mourning his passing.

O morning breeze, tell my brother Sālār

That in this world, no one is as kind to me as he¹¹⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 205.

By your life, dear brother, as long as I breathe

I shall always remain indebted to your love¹²⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 203.

May my life be sacrificed for you, beloved brother

Ashraf’s devotion to you knows no bounds¹²¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 244.

Mishkātī also composed numerous poems on various occasions or as expressions of affection for her friends, often mentioning them by name and centering the poem around them:

With dear Media, I would become a swimmer

In the heart of the ocean’s waves—oh, what a cherished memory!¹²²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 234.

She also composed the poem “Akhtar-i man” (My star) in longing for her sister during a time of separation:

O celestial star of my fortune, O beloved one

My sister, you are the crown upon my head

After family, homeland and a deep love for Iran hold a special place in her poetry:

Every heart takes delight in its own longing, yet in my mind there is no desire

But the progress of Iran—this is the hope of us women¹²³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 150.

I am a lover of pure Iran; never bind your heart to mine

Born of its water and soil, never bind your heart to mine¹²⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 239.

In Iran, Mishkātī’s deep affection for Gilan, its nature and people is vividly reflected in her poetry. In the poem “Gilan,” she beautifully expresses her devotion to this land:

Blessed be the meadows and fields of Gilan

What city could ever rival Gilan?

Naught but kindness and sincerity shall you find

Among the noble people of Gilan¹²⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 225.

In her poem “Salām bar Gīlān” (Greetings to Gilan), Mishkātī once again celebrates the natural beauty of the region:

O northern lands, I send greetings to the city of Gilan

Greetings to your flowers, gardens, cypress trees, and fields¹²⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 238.

The natural beauty of Gilan, its sea, coast, forests, and verdant landscape has left a profound mark on Mishkātī’s poetry. Vocabulary and imagery associated with these elements repeatedly appear throughout her poems:

I have come back to your side, O sea

To be your lover and companion, O sea¹²⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 213.

Mishkātī also expresses her deep love for her ancestral land in her masnavī “Tāj-i khvurshīd” (Sun’s crown). She composed it in praise of the picturesque village of Javahir Dasht, which is in the Qasimabad region of Rudsar—her father’s homeland. The nature and beauty of this land are uniquely rendered in Mishkātī’s poetry. She pays close attention to her surroundings, using a range of literary devices to craft vivid imagery that brings joy and emotional resonance to her readers. In one poem, she evokes the charm of spring and the intimacy of shared moments with a loved one:

Spring is delightful, and gathering flowers with you makes it even more sweet

On Eid, I yearn to kiss your face and bask in your beauty¹²⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 245.

In another verse, Mishkātī captures the celebratory spirit of spring, encouraging her companions to embrace the joy of the season:

Friends, drink wine, for it is Farvardīn

The season of dogrose, jasmine and wild rose

The bride of the meadow adorns her head and face

Scatter flowers at her feet, for this is the essence of spring¹²⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 225.

She also contrasts the beauty of cultivated gardens with the grandeur of nature, skillfully drawing attention to the natural landscape surrounding her:

Though your garden is quite beautiful, with flowers and beauty abounding

One side boasts of meadows and mountains, while the other meets the sea¹³⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 224.

Mishkātī finds inspiration in a daffodil beside a stream, using it as a metaphor for the captivating beauty of a beloved’s eyes:

I see daffodil, drowsy and intoxicated by the stream

And it reminds me of the magical daffodil of your eyes.¹³¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 100.

On the other hand, Mishkātī also turns inward, making her, in essence, a poet of both the outer world and inner self. In several of her poems, she laments the sorrow of separation and reproaches betrayal and unfaithfulness:

Do you know that I am gone

My healer says no remedy can save me now?
Do you know that, in the end, the wheel of fate

Has separated you from me, and me from you?¹³²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 242.

I said, “What treachery you are! Alas, the sorrow of separation!”

The dew upon the petals turned to tears from her eyes

Distance became our torment, he left my side

And from the moon in the sky, perhaps I’ll find a trace of him¹³³Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 250.

Having endured so much pain and injustice in the world

Ashraf is familiar with the realm of suffering and sorrow¹³⁴Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 247.

The endurance of love’s pain and its healing through union is a well-established motif in mystical poetry. This theme recurs with remarkable frequency in Mishkātī’s poetry, conveying the poet’s inner sorrow and anguish.

Our pain, for which no remedy exists

The ailing seek their cure in vain.¹³⁵Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 250.

I have come, O healers, to find a cure

Take pity on the aching heart and seek a solution¹³⁶Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 263.

Let me die, untouched by healing

For my pain has passed beyond any cure¹³⁷Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 218.

Why do the healers not cure me?

My suffering is beyond the reach of any remedy¹³⁸Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 220.

Religious beliefs, love, and devotion to the Shīʿī Imams are reflected in Mishkātī’s poetry. In her poem “Kaʿbah-ʾi dil′hā” (Kaʿbah of the hearts), she engages in an intimate dialogue with God and offers praise to the Kaʿbah, symbolizing spiritual connection and devotion. Similarly, in the poem “Bih sū-yi Kaʿbah” (Towards the Kaʿbah), Mishkātī once again turns to prayers and praises the Kaʿbah, reinforcing her deep bond with the divine. Themes of lamentation and elegy also appear frequently in her poems. For example, in “Yā ʿAlī,” Mishkātī venerates Amīr al-Muʿminīn (the Commander of the Faithful, Imām ʿAlī), while in poems such as “Salām” (Salutation), “Payām” (Message) and “Mī′ram” (I go), she offers homage to the eighth Twelver Shīʿī Imam, Imam Rizā.

Social commentary plays a vital role in her poetry. Issues such as racial injustice are addressed in “Sifīd va siyāh,” while poems like “Tū ay bashar” (You, O human), “Nigīn-i girān′māyah” and “Bā man az dar va javāhir′hā bigū” provide critiques of various forms of social injustice. Mishkātī also explores themes of women’s freedom and rights in poems such as “Tawq-i bandigī” and “Mā nisvān.”

Mishkātī was concerned with social justice, particularly the oppression of marginalized social classes and, most notably, the injustices faced by women. As a pioneer in the women’s liberation movement, she called on women to stand against tyranny and to demand their rights. In “Shab-i ʿayd” (The night of the festival), she recounts a true story about an unjust law denies mothers custody of their children and exposes this injustice through literary elegance. Then, in her short poem “Bār ilāhā” (O God!), she turns to divine justice, expressing her anguish and seeking God’s help in the face of such oppression.¹³⁹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 70–71. Her ghazal “Mā nisvān” was published in the journal ʿĀlam-i Nisvān and “Tawq-i bandigī” was published in Fikr-i Javān newspaper.¹⁴⁰Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 109. In another poem titled “Tu ay bashar,” composed in Washington, she offers a pointed critique of Western powers and their inhumane actions, which reflects her broader awareness of global injustice. She stands out as one of the contemporary poets who addressed such themes in her works.¹⁴¹Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 82–84.

In addition to her moral and social concerns, Mishkātī was politically conscious and engaged with contemporary national issues. She composed “Naft va khūn” (Oil and blood) in commemoration of the nationalization of Iran’s oil industry, an event of great historical and political significance.¹⁴²Rūhīfar, Sayrī dar tālār-i āyinah, 24–25, 57.

Below is a translation of the poem “Barf va zughāl,” which won the Iran-Pakistan Literary Association’s competition in 1958:

A heap of white snow fell down

Upon a pile of black charcoal

When the snow saw that dark face, it said:

“Alas! My body became burdened with misfortune

How strange! Who is this dark-faced beloved?

Staying with him is impossible for me.”

With a smile, the charcoal replied: 

“You, embodiment of goodness and god of beauty

Do not regard look upon us with such disdain;

There is no reason for you to cause such an uproar

I, whose face has turned so dark,

Was once a cypress in an unparalleled garden

My shadow was the sanctuary of lovers,

The day of separation and the time of reunion

From the hunter’s hand in that meadow,

My branch gave refuge to the gazelle

The love-struck nightingale lamented the flower’s cruelty

And carried its complaint to the northern breeze

Until dawn, he sighed and said: ‘Alas

I have become enamored with a heedless flower’

Suddenly, the axe of the woodcutter struck, and

I was cast into a pit of darkness

He set such a fire in that furnace

I was burned, and I became charcoal

All this pride, O beloved

Though you have been matchless in kindness and grace

Know that all things, even your radiant fact

Will perish, except for goodness

I am content with the darkening of my face

For it granted me the chance to do good

When you descend and the cold sets in

I will warm the cottage of every sorrowful soul

When I come to the aid of the weak

I have no sorrow for my blackened state

For nothing in this world, O Ashraf

Has worth, except goodness, to the possessor of perfection¹⁴³Fakhrāʾī, Gīlān dar qalamʹraw-yi shiʿr va adab, 46.