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Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry

Amir Pourrastegar Rasoul Mohammadi Last updated: December 22, 2025

36 min read

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Amir Pourrastegar Rasoul Mohammadi Last updated: December 22, 2025

36 min read

cite

Introduction

Rābi‎‎ʿah bint Ka‎ʿb Quzdārī was a poet who lived in the AH 4th/10th century. She has been referred to by various names, including “bint Ka‎ʿb,”¹ “Dukhtar-i Ka‎ʿb,”² “Rābi‎‎ʿah dukhtar-i Ka‎ʿb,”³ “Rābi‎‎ʿah Balkhī,”⁴ and “Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī.”⁵ Hermann Ethé⁶ recorded her name as Qizdārī, while Mazāhir Musaffā transcribed it as Qazdār.⁷ In Tārīkh-i adabiyāt darī (The history of Dari literature), it is noted that “Rābi‎‎ʿah was widely known among the people as Rābi‎‎ʿah Qusdārī.”⁸ She came to be called Rābi‎‎ʿah Balkhī because her father, Ka‎ʿb, was a member of the noble class in Balkh. Ka‎ʿb’s ancestors were closely involved in the political and military events of Khurasan alongside Abū Muslim and held authority over Sijistan, Turan, and Quzdar.⁹ It remains unclear why some biographers have referred to her as Rābi‎‎ʿah Isfahānīyah.¹⁰ In Rayāhīn al-sharīʿah¹¹ (Sweet basils of the prophetic dispensation) and Tazkirah-ʾi rūz-i rawshan¹² (Memoir of the bright day), she is mentioned as “Rābi‎‎ʿah Isfahānī.” It is perhaps based on this reasoning that Abū al-Qāsim ‎Rādfar identifies her as Rābi‎‎ʿah Isfahānī or Rāyihah Isfahānī, describing her as a mystic, ascetic, and poet.¹³ Overall, it should be noted that these biographers, in the absence of sufficient evidence, have attributed her birthplace to Isfahan.¹⁴

Farīd al-Dīn ‎ʿAttār Nayshābūrī (ca. AH 553–627/1158–1230) presents Rābi‎‎ʿah as a contemporary of Rūdakī (d. AH 329/941)¹⁵ in his Ilāhīʹnāmah (‎The book of the divine). Building on this account, Rizā Qulī Khān Hidāyat lists her among the poets of the Samanid period.¹⁶ Similarly, Mudarris Tabrīzī, in Rayhānah al-adab (The sweet basil of literature‎), identifies Rābi‎‎ʿah as a female mystic of the AH 4th/10th century and a contemporary of Rūdakī,¹⁷ a view shared by Āqā Buzurg Tihrānī.¹⁸ Vālah Dāghistānī, in Tazkirah-ʾi riyāz al-shu‎‎ʿarā (Garden of poets), asserts that Rābi‎‎ʿah witnessed the Samanid era and was contemporaneous with the Buyid dynasty (AH 332–448/933–1056).¹⁹ Likewise, Zabīh Allāh ‎Safā places her in the AH 4th/10th century alongside Rūdakī.²⁰ While Saꜥīd Nafīsī acknowledges that not all biographers recognize Rābi‎‎ʿah a contemporary of Rūdakī,²¹ he himself categorizes her among the poets of Rūdakī’s time.²² Nafīsī further includes Rābi‎‎ʿah in the section devoted to post-Rūdakī poets who were influenced by his themes. He draws a parallel between the two poets, noting that “Rūdakī writes:

In the end, this rope will pass through the loop

No matter how long it may be

This sentiment is echoed in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s verse:

Do not despair, O daughter of Ka‎ʿb, though your beloved is far from you

No matter how long the rope may seem, it will still pass through the loop²³

If we accept ‎ʿAttār’s account of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s meeting with Rūdakī, it follows that she lived during the reign of Nasr ibn Ahmad ibn Ismā‎ʿīl Sāmānī (r. AH 301–331/914–943).²⁴ Jan Rypka also situates Rābi‎‎ʿah in the late Samanid period.²⁵ Similarly, in Kārʹnāmah-ʾi zanān-i mashhūr-i Īrān (The accomplishments of prominent ‎Iranian women), Rābi‎‎ʿah’s era is recorded as coinciding with that of Rūdakī.²⁶ From a stylistic standpoint, Mazāhir Musaffā argues that the use of the refrain bād (“wind”) in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry sets her apart from the poetic style of the Samanid poets and their contemporaries, including Rūdakī:

The breeze scattered lilies, flowers, silver, and gold,

Oh, what a wind—may mercy on the wind unfold.

It etched the mark of Āzar’s idols on the water’s face,

And revealed Mānī’s magic’s trace.

Like Adam’s eye, perhaps a cloud did appear—

Like Jesus’s own grace, perhaps the wind brought near.²⁷

Nevertheless, Sīrūs Shamīsā notes that thirty-five poets from the Samanid era are known, and he mentions Rābi‎‎ʿah alongside figures such as Rūdakī, Abū Shakūr, Daqīqī, Kisāʾī, Manjīk, and Firdawsī.²⁸ In his discussion of taghazzul (lyricism) and ghazal, he observes that, from the Samanid period, up until the end of the AH 4th/10th century, only a few ghazals by Rābi‎‎ʿah have survived.²⁹ The only source to place Rābi‎‎ʿah in the AH 3rd/9th century is Tārīkh-i jāmi‎ʿ-i Īrān (Comprehensive history of Iran).³⁰

Historical Geography of Quzdar

The Persian language and literature in Pakistan flourished and spread from the city of Quzdar in the Baluchistan region, extending across the Indian subcontinent, Pakistan, and reaching as far as Eastern Pakistan and Bengal. Throughout history, Quzdar has been recorded under various names, the most notable of which are Quzdār (قضدار), Quzdār (قزدار), Qusdār (قصدار), and Khuzdār (خضدار).³¹ Concerning the historical geography of Quzdar, the birthplace of Rābi‎‎ʿah, it has been documented that it was a region in India, situated 48 kilometers from Bost, and was also referred to as Qusdār.³²

Quzdar served as a crossroads connecting Kalat, Karachi and Makran. Among the geographers of the AH 3rd and 4th/9th and 10th centuries, Maqdisī provides the most valuable insights into the region, describing Quzdar as the capital of Turan. He notes that the city consisted of two districts on either side of a dry valley without a bridge, with houses constructed from clay. Despite its modest size, this settlement was prosperous and attracted merchants from Khurasan, Fars, Kerman, and various cities in India, who frequently traveled there for trade.³³

In Masālik va mamālik (Roads and kingdoms), Istakhrī identifies Quzdar as the principal town of Turan in his account of the regions of Sind and its dependencies.³⁴ Īrāj Afshār, the work’s editor, notes that some manuscripts list its name as Qasdān.³⁵

Figure 1: The Geographical Location of Quzdar (Qusdār) and Makran

In Persian poetry, Quzdar and Makran are frequently mentioned together. For example, Farrukhī, in his tribute to Amīr Ayāz Ūymāq and the homage paid to Mahmūd Ghaznavī (AH 387–421/997–1030), writes:

He bestowed upon him the wealth of the land of Bost

The tribute of the land of Makran and Quzdar.³⁶

Elsewhere, in his panegyric to Mahmūd, he declares:

You rule from the banks of the Ganges to the Sea of Abaskun

You rule from the gates of Urgench to Quzdar and Makran.³⁷

‎ʿAttār records that Rābi‎‎ʿah’s family was of Arab descent, having settled in the region during the time of Abū Muslim. Given the existence of a desert known as Ka‎ʿb’s Desert between Balkh and Taleqan, it is likely that the area was named after Ka‎ʿb, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s father.³⁸ This could explain why Nafīsī identified her as having Arab ancestry.³⁹ Altāf ‎ʿAlī points out that ‎ʿAwfī, in Lubāb al-albāb (Quintessence of hearts), attributes Ka‎‎ʿb to Quzdar.⁴⁰ Ka‎‎ʿb was the leader of the Arabs during the Samanid period. However, when Quzdar is mentioned during the Ghaznavid era, there is no reference to Ka‎‎ʿb or his successor, Hārith. This suggests that Ka‎‎ʿb lived prior to the Ghaznavid period.

‎ʿAttār refers to Nasr ibn Ahmad II (d. AH 331/943), the Samanid ruler, as the “Sovereign of Bukhārā,” under whose reign Ka‎ʿb served as the governor of Balkh.⁴¹ According to Rizā Qulī Khān Hidāyat, Ka‎‎ʿb was the ruler of several regions of Greater Khurasan, including Balkh, Bost, Qandahar, and Quzdar and was of Arab descent.⁴² However, some scholars have contested this claim, proposing instead that Ka‎‎ʿb was a Persian poet.⁴³ Helmut Ritter finds Hidāyat’s assertion highly dubious, arguing that Ka‎‎ʿb was likely “a local ruler in Quzdar about whom nothing has been transmitted by the historians.”⁴⁴ Ritter further suggests that ‎ʿAttār’s mention of Balkh as Ka‎‎ʿb’s seat of power may be a later invention.⁴⁵ Following Ritter’s view, Shafīꜥī Kadkanī, in his annotations on the Ilāhīʹnāmah, also questions the historical authenticity of Ka‎‎ʿb, noting that no such figure is recorded in the historical accounts of Balkh and its surrounding regions.⁴⁶

There are no historical sources that explicitly mention the location of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s tomb. However, Qavīm suggests that since she passed away in Balkh, it is most likely that she was buried there. In AH 1344/1926, a grave discovered to the east of the mausoleum of Khvājah Muhammad Pārsā in Balkh was tentatively identified as hers, and a small structure was subsequently erected over it.⁴⁷ Shamim Homayun, in an article highlighting the constructed nature of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s mausoleum, contends that its emergence reflects a synthesis of state narratives and local traditions. Drawing upon cultural frameworks such as “site-making through dreams,” a concept rooted in Sufi traditions across the Islamic world, officials relied on visions and poetry to locate graves and inscribe meaning into the cultural landscape.⁴⁸

The Dawn of Persian Women’s Poetry

Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry marks the beginning of the literary history of Persian-speaking women. She is believed to be the first woman to compose poetry in Dari Persian—or, at the very least, the earliest whose verses have survived.⁴⁹ In a similar vein, Gilbert Lazard observes that “Rābi‎‎ʿah of [Qusdār] was the first poetess of the Persian language and the author of love-poems of a touching sincerity.”⁵⁰ Hermann Ethé also identifies her as the earliest Iranian woman poet.⁵¹ According to Muhammad Taqī Bahār, even prior to the widespread dissemination of Persian under the Seljuks from Aleppo to Kashgar, and before it attained such prominence in Baghdad that even the Abbasid caliphs began to take interest in it, Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī, the daughter of Ka‎‎ʿb and a contemporary of the Samanids, was composing poetry in Persian.⁵²

Rābi‎‎ʿah occupies a foundational place in the early canon of Persian literature, some renowned modern scholars recognize her as a significant literary figure in her own right. Badi‎ʿ al-Zamān Furūzānfar includes her among the great figures of Iranian poetry, listing her alongside Firdawsī.⁵³ Similarly, Nafīsī asserts that the emergence of Persian poetry in the AH 4th/10th century can be attributed to the contributions of poets such as Rūdakī and his contemporaries, including Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī.⁵⁴

Rābi‎‎ʿah is scarcely mentioned in biographical anthologies and literary histories. Her name is likewise absent from Javāhir al-‎ʿajāyib, Tazkirat al-nisāʾ (Jewels of wonder, Memoirs of women). Precise details regarding her birth and death remain unknown. The earliest explicit reference to her poetry appears in Tarjumān al-balāghah (Interpreter of eloquence), authored by Rādūyānī, who likely composed the text during the reign of Sultan Mas‎ʿūd Ghaznavī (AH 389–421/988–1030). Rādūyānī was the first to authoritatively preserve Rābi‎‎ʿah’s verse, citing two couplets by her as an example of the rhetorical device known as iltifāt (apostrophe),⁵⁵ meaning shifts in address:

Would that my body could once more grasp the heart’s fate.

Would that my heart could again perceive the body’s state,

Would that I might escape from you in peace

Ah, alas! From where can such release be found?

As Shafī‎ʿī Kadkanī notes, these two couplets are entirely consistent with the biographical accounts that ‎ʿAttār attributes to Rābi‎‎ʿah.⁵⁶ The second major work to mention Rābi‎‎ʿah bint Ka‎‎ʿb in the section titled “Zikr-i shu‎‎ʿarā-yi Āl-i Nāsir” (Mention of the poets (under the rule) of the house of Nāsir) is Lubāb al-albāb, compiled in AH 618/1221 by ‎ʿAwfī. He records her name as Rābi‎‎ʿah bint Ka‎‎ʿb Quzdārī, praises her poetry in both Persian and Arabic, and cites fourteen of her couplets. It appears that the earliest recorded information about Rābi‎‎ʿah is found in this work. ꜥAwfī includes her among the poets of Sabuktigin dynasty,⁵⁷ a classification that may have influenced Hermann Ethé’s decision to list Rābi‎‎ʿah among the panegyrists of Sultan Mahmūd Ghaznavī. Ethé further observes that only a few of her verses have survived, in which she offers praise for Mahmūd and some of his contemporaries.⁵⁸ In his description, ‎ʿAwfī writes:

The daughter of Ka‎‎ʿb, in her erudition, outshone the men of the world, and took pride in her distinction [literally, “she laughed at all the men of the world”]. A master of both realms and a sovereign of both expressions, she possessed command over Arabic verse and excelled in Persian poetry. Endowed with exceptional intelligence and a keen wit, she was perpetually enraptured by love and enamored with beauty. She was known as “the brass fly” (magas-i rūyīn). The reason for this epithet, lies in a poem she once composed:

They say rain fell upon Job’s head,

Locusts from the sky, with golden heads.

If golden locusts fell upon him for his patience,

Then surely a single brass fly should fall upon me.⁵⁹

Shams al-Dīn Muhammad ibn Qays al-Rāzī is the third author to mention a verse by Rābi‎‎ʿah in his work al-Mu‎‎ʿjam fī ma‎ʿāyīr ash‎ʿār al-‎ʿajam (Compendium on the conventions of Persian poetry), written in AH 630/1233. In the first section on the art of prosody (‎ʿarūz), which consists of four chapters, the fourth chapter covers the fifteen poetic meters (buhūr), the five circles (dawāʾir), and the scansion of verses (taqtī‎ʿ). In this chapter, while discussing the second variable circle and its four meters, al-Rāzī provides an example of the meter muzāraꜥ musaddas mukhannaq (maf‎ʿūl fā‎ʿilātun maf‎ʿūlun),⁶⁰ illustrating it with a couplet by Rābi‎‎ʿah:

The beloved entered through my door, smiling

That graceful, fair-faced, sprightly little guest

Maf‎ʿūl fā‎ʿilātun maf‎ʿūlun

No complete collection of poetry (dīvān) by Rābi‎‎ʿah has survived, and her scattered verses have been compiled in later centuries. According to Mahmūd ‎Mudabbirī, the extant poetry of Rābi‎‎ʿah consists of seven ghazals, four couplets, two individual verses, and a total of fifty-five couplets.⁶¹ In her compilation of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, Sughrā Bānū Shikuftah has recorded forty-three couplets,⁶² though it appears she may not have had access to all available sources. While there is some uncertainty regarding the definitive attribution of all of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poems, according to Rūhangīz Karāchī “upon consulting the oldest available sources, such as the biographical dictionaries and poetry anthologies, sixty-one couplets of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, including five ghazals, three individual verses, and thirteen quatrains, have been discovered.”⁶³

There is no consensus regarding the exact number of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s surviving verses. As Saꜥīd Nafīsī has observed, her well-known ghazal beginning with “When the garden became a sanctuary for countless blooms / The meadow assumed the hues of Mānī’s Arzhang,” which is commonly attributed to her, has also been ascribed to Rūdakī and Adīb Sābir.⁶⁴ However, in Mūnis al-ahrār (The free man’s companion), the ghazal is attributed to ‎ʿĀʾishah Samarqandiyyah, known as ‎ʿĀʾishah Maqriyyah, a renowned poet of the AH 6th/12th century.⁶⁵ In addition, the second couplet of another ghazal, “His love once again ensnared me in its chains / And all my striving proved of no avail,” is attributed to Abū al-Hasan Āghājī in Asadī’s lexicon. Beyond the verses recorded in literary anthologies, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry is also preserved in various compilations and manuscript collections. Among these is a ghazal, of which only the opening two couplets are cited in Majma‎ʿ al-fusahā (Assembly of the eloquent):

The breeze scattered lilies, flowers, silver, and gold,

Oh, what a wind—may mercy on the wind unfold.

It etched the mark of Āzar’s idols on the water’s face,

And revealed Mānī’s magic’s trace.⁶⁶

The Representation of Rābi‎‎ʿah in Mysticism and Sufism

Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī is mentioned in several mystical texts. Asrār al-tawhīd (Secrets of God’s oneness) is the earliest mystical work to quote four couplets from one of her romantic ghazals. These verses are quoted by Abū Sa‎ʿīd Abū al-Khayr (AH 357–440/967–1049), though her name is not explicitly mentioned. In the second chapter of Asrār al-tawhīd, a poignant episode is narrated:

The shaykh had a young son whom he loved dearly. When the child passed away and was taken to the cemetery, the shaykh personally laid him to rest. As the shaykh stepped out of the burial pit, tears welled in his blessed eyes, and he recited the following couplets:

One must gaze on ugliness and deem it fair

Taste bitter poison, and feign sweetness there

I stood defiant, blind to the thread

The more I pulled, the more it clenched instead⁶⁷

Another episode, recorded in the third chapter of Asrār al-tawhīd, recounts the following:

Our shaykh, may God sanctify his noble soul, turned to his esteemed son in the midst of the gathering. Khvājah Bū Tāhir said: “O Bā Tāhir! Rise to your feet!” Khvājah Bā Tāhir stood. The shaykh then took hold of his robe and drew him near, saying: “We have consecrated you and your descendants to the service of the Sufis. Take heed of this counsel we offer you”:

If you wish to see love through to the end,

You must learn to embrace what none would commend.

One must gaze on ugliness and deem it fair,

Taste bitter poison and feign sweetness there.⁶⁸

The mystical exegesis and esoteric interpretation of Abū Sa‎ʿīd on the poetry of Rābi‎‎ʿah bint Ka‎ʿb contributed to the creation of a mystic and ascetic for her in later tradition. Consequently, the Sufi image of Rābi‎‎ʿah is prominently reflected in the works of ‎ʿAttār and Jāmī. In the twenty-first chapter of Ilāhīʹnāmah, ‎ʿAttār recounts Rābi‎‎ʿah’s story in verse. According to him, following the death of her father, Rābi‎‎ʿah fell in love with Baktāsh, a Turkish slave and military commander who was among the slaves of her brother Hāris. During this period of passionate love, she composed poetry. However, when the affair was discovered, her brother tragically executed.

Jāmī also mentions this story in the section titled “On the women mystics who reach the ranks of men” (Zikr al-nisāʾ al-‎ʿārifāt al-wāsilāt ilā marātib al-rijāl) in his Nafahāt al-uns (Breaths of fellowship):

Shaykh Abū Sa‎ʿīd Abū al-Khayr, may God sanctify his secret, remarked: “The daughter of Ka‎‎ʿb was enamored with that slave, yet the elders unanimously agreed that what he says is not something that can be said about a created being. Her affairs must be elsewhere.” On one occasion, the slave suddenly seized the girl by her sleeve. She cried out, saying: “Is it not sufficient that I am with my God, where I am wholly absorbed? Why do you seek to exploit what I have disclosed to you?” Shaykh Abū Sa‎ʿīd concluded: “The words she spoke are not the sort that can be spoked about a mere creature.”⁶⁹

Shafī‎ʿī Kadkanī notes that Jāmī’s account draws primarily from ‎ʿAttār, while the information provided by Rizā Qulī Khān Hidāyat is based on Nafahāt al-uns and Ilāhīʹnāmah. The details that ‎ʿAttār conveys through Abū Saꜥīd do not appear in any of the latter’s surviving Maqāmāt works, and what Jāmī quotes in Nafahāt al-uns is undoubtedly derived from ‎ʿAttār.⁷⁰ On this basis, and following ‎ʿAttār’s Ilāhīʹnāmah, Rizā Qulī Khān Hidāyat composed the narrative poem Gulistān-i Iram (The garden of Iram), which centers on Rābi‎‎ʿah’s life and love story. In Majma‎ʿ al-fusahā, Hidāyat further portrays Rābi‎‎ʿah as a mystic, describing her as “the peerless figure of her age, unparalleled across all eras, the possessor of both literal and metaphorical love, and the unrivaled champion in Persian and Arabic eloquence.”⁷¹ Bertels contends that Rizā Qulī Khān Hidāyat’s account lacks historical reliability; nevertheless, the emergence of an extensive romance about Rābi‎‎ʿah in the twelfth century CE attests to a deep and sustained engagement with her poetry.⁷²

The reflection and interpretation of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s character and poetry within Sufism suggest that some Sufi poets may have conflated Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī, the poet, with Rābi‎‎ʿah ‎ʿAdavīyyah, the ascetic and mystic of the AH 2nd/8th century. Much of the integration of Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī into the domain of mysticism appears to originate from the words of Abū Sa‎ʿīd in Asrār al-tawhīd, although these references are themselves marked by ambiguity and interpretive license. Idārahʹchī Gīlānī, in refuting the idea that Rābi‎‎ʿah was a Sufi, emphasizes that not only does ‎ʿAwfī omit such a claim, but foundational Sufi texts such as Kashf al-mahjūb (Revelation of the hidden), al-Risālah Qushayrīyyah (Epistle of al-Qushayrī), and Tabaqāt al-Sūfiyyah (Generations of Sufis), are likewise silent on the matter. Even ‎ʿAttār, in his Tazkirah al-awliyāʾ (Biographies of the saints), does not mention Rābi‎‎ʿah, and his Ilāhīʹnāmah is more poetic narrative than historical documentation. In Hikāyat-i Rābi‎‎ʿah (Rābi‎‎ʿah’s tale), Rizā Ashrafʹzādah concludes that Abū Sa‎ʿīd’s Sufi disposition predisposes him to interpret any poetic utterance through a mystical lens; however, his interpretation does not necessarily reflect Rābi‎‎ʿah own mystical perspective. Ashrafʹzādah further notes that the tale of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s self-sacrifice in pursuit of pure, unconsummated love transforms her into a paragon of spiritual sincerity and chastity, an idealized image that lends itself to mystical interpretation.⁷³ Moreover, the shared name “Rābi‎‎ʿah” among three women mystics—Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī, Rābi‎‎ʿah ‎ʿAdavīyyah, and Rābi‎‎ʿah Shāmīyyah—all of whom spoke of love, may have further contributed to the perception of Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī as a mystic.⁷⁴

The portrayal of Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī within mysticism appears to have been influenced by later interpretations that sought to align her with the broader Sufi tradition. Notably, mystics such as ‎ʿAttār and Abū Sa‎ʿīd Abū al-Khayr may have characterized her as a mystic and Sufi to preserve her name and works and shield them from the scrutiny of narrow-minded individuals. In ‎ʿAttār’s rendition, Rābi‎‎ʿah symbolizes the spirit (rūh)—joyous in its union with the Beloved—while Baktāsh represents the carnal soul or lower self (nafs). For the carnal soul or lowers self to ascend from the state of ammārah (the commanding [toward evil] soul) to the state of mutmaʾinnah (the peaceful soul), it must pursue Rābi‎‎ʿah through ascetic discipline.⁷⁵

According to Safā, the claim by some Sufi poets that Rābi‎‎ʿah was the earliest poet in Iran with a Sufi inclination is mistaken. He contends that this misattribution appears to stem from a confusion between her narrative and that of another ascetic woman bearing the same name. Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, marked by intense expressions of (earthly) love, does not conform to the foundational principles of Sufism. Nevertheless, it is plausible that her verses were used to inspire the hearts and intensify the longing of spiritual seekers.⁷⁶ Approaching the matter from a different angle, Sayyid Mahdī ‎Zarqānī argues that the predominance of a patriarchal cultural tradition has obscured Rābi‎‎ʿah’s historical identity and literary voice, enveloping them in layers of myth. He suggests that her identity was conflated with that of Rābi‎‎ʿah ‎ʿAdavīyyah. This merging, Zarqānī contends, served a strategic purpose: to reinterpret the transgressive elements of Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī’s poetry and life story within the acceptable parameters of mystical love.⁷⁷

The influence of Rābi‎‎ʿah is discernible in a ghazal by Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī. According to Mazāhir Musaffā, the following renowned verses of Mawlānā are inspired by Rābi‎‎ʿah’s two couplets:

O Lord, to that unkind beloved of mine,

Send him a match—coquettish, sly, and daring in kind.

So he may know how my dark nights pass,

Give him love’s sorrow, give him love, and give it vast.

The following are the couplets by Rābi‎‎ʿah that are believed to have influenced the verses by Mawlānā:

My prayer is this: May God make you fall in love

One as harsh and unkind as you’re guilty of

So you may know love’s pain, its wound and its sorrow

And in separation twist, to grasp my worth tomorrow⁷⁸

Beyond the Sufi tradition, several biographers have also recognized Rābi‎‎ʿah as a mystic. For example, ‎ʿAlāmah ‎Shiblī Nu‎‎ʿmānī observes that “Rābi‎‎ʿah entered the circle of Sufism, and consequently, her name has been included among the ranks of the Sufis.”⁷⁹

Stylistics of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s Poetry

The phonetic, linguistic, literary, and intellectual style of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry is situated within the Khurāsānī style. In Sabk-i Khurāsānī dar shi‎‎ʿr-i Fārsī (The Khurāsānī style in Persian poetry‎), Muhammad Ja‎‎ʿfar‎ Mahjūb, cites Rābi‎‎ʿah’s works as examples for the use of various rhetorical figures and stylistic devices, including mulamma‎ʿ (literally, “polished” or “of various colors,” macaronic verse, a type of poetry in which mixed languages are used), tashbīh-i muzmar (implicit or implied simile, a rhetorical figure where the similarity between two things is not explicitly stated, but rather implied through the use of imagery and context), irsāl al-masal (proverbial expression, a poetic technique of introducing or “sending” a proverb into a verse), iltifāt (apostrophe), jam‎ʿ va tafrīq (combining and differentiating, a device in poetry where meaning is shaped either by identifying a trait that links multiple elements together by emphasizing the differences between them, or by first listing the elements and then outlining their respective qualities), the syntactical phenomenon of employing two prepositions for one complement, the diminutive suffix -ak used for endearment (in Persian, the suffix “َک,” conveys intimacy, affection, or tenderness toward the modified noun(, the art of the ghazal, and some of the earliest instances of rhyme in the opening sections of Persian poetry.⁸⁰ For example, the stylistic use of two prepositions for a single complement is evident in the following verse by Rābi‎‎ʿah:

به عشقت اندر، عاصی همی‌نیارم شد

به دینم اندر، طاغی همی‌شوی به مثل

In love for you, I dare not be rebellious

Yet in my faith, you become the rebel, it seems⁸¹

Similarly, the use of -ak to convey either affectionate diminutive or mild derision is seen in this line:

ترک از درم درآمد خندانک

آن خوب‌روی چابک مهمانک

The beloved entered through my door, smiling

That graceful, fair-faced, sprightly little guest⁸²

Another instance is the use of implicit simile in the following verse:⁸³

If the cloud has gone mad, then why

Does it offer the morning wine to the wind in a golden cup?

In Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, the use of rhetorical devices such as talmīh (allusion), murā‎ʿāt-i nazīr or tanāsub (literally, “the observance of the similarity” and “congruity,” which involve bringing together homogeneous things within the frame of a couplet), tashbīh-i mahsūs bih mahsūs (a simile of the perceptible to the perceptible), jam‎ʿ va tafrīq, alongside other stylistically simple figures of speech, is readily discernible. The themes and motifs explored in her verses are consistent with those of her contemporaries and, in keeping with the Khurāsānī style, are notably free from esoteric vocabulary and technical terminology drawn from fields such as astronomy and medicine. In addition to the simplicity and clarity of both thought and expression, her poetry is characterized by delicacy, vivid descriptions of nature, an intense longing born of love, and an elegant use of meter. However, it is devoid of wisdom (hikmat) or mysticism in the formal sense.⁸⁴ Herman Ethé categorizes Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry as non-courtly, associating it with the expressive traditions of the common people.⁸⁵ As Khurāsānī poetry is grounded in tangible, accessible realities and relatable experiences, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s compositions are rooted in a sincere, human love. While later mystics such as Abū Sa‎ʿīd and ‎ʿAttār cloaked her poetry in mystical framework, these Sufi interpretations should not be uncritically generalized or regarded as definitive.

In examining the stylistic features of Rābi‎ʿah’s poetry, particular attention should be given to her use of mulamma‎ʿ, involving the blending of Arabic and Persian. ‎ʿAwfī, in Lubāb al-Albāb, presents the following a semi-structured example of such a mulamma‎ʿ composed by her:

شاقنی نایــــــــــــــح من الاطیار

هاج ســـــــقمی و هاج لی تذکاری

دوش بر شاخک درخت آن مرغ

نوحه می کرد و می گریست به زاری

قلت للــــــطیر: لم تنوح و تبکی

فی دجــــــی اللیل و النــجوم دراری

من جــدایم ز یار از آن می نالم

و چه نالی که با مســــــــــاعد یاری؟

من نگویم چو خون دیده بــبارم

تو چه گویی چو خون دیده نبــاری؟

The cry of a mourning bird has stirred my pain

And awakened my sickness and memories again.

Last night, upon the tree’s slender branch,

That bird was wailing and weeping in sorrow.

I said to the bird: Why do you wail and weep

In the darkness of night, while the stars are shining?

I lament because I am parted from my beloved

But why do you mourn, when you have your companion’s support?

I do not claim to weep tears of blood,

But what do you say, who do not shed such tears? ⁸⁶

These bilingual lines, characterized by a romantic theme and drawing on the stylistic conventions typical of the AH 4th/10th century, evoke the tone and atmosphere of the formative period of Persian poetry. The verse is shaped by direct expression and emotional resonance grounded in lived experience, making a restrained use of rhetorical figures and largely avoiding elaborate ornamentation. Rābi‎‎ʿah’s composition is a semi-structured mulamma‎ʿ (in which the alternation of languages is not strictly regular or systematic), and scholars such as Jalāl al-Dīn Humāyī, Safā, and Mudabbirī attribute the first fully structured mulamma‎ʿ in Persian literary history to Shahīd Balkhī (d. AH 325/937).⁸⁷ Nevertheless, some researchers consider the mulamma‎ʿ to be one of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s own innovations, identifying her as the earliest poet to experiment with this hybrid form.⁸⁸ Others go still further, contending that she may have been the very first Persian poet who originated the mulamma‎ʿ form of poetry altogether.⁸⁹

According to Muhammad ‎ʿAlī Kishāvarz Sadr, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s mulamma‎ʿ was perfected three centuries later by Sa‎ʿdī.⁹⁰ Riyāz al-shu‎ʿarā also notes that Rābi‎‎ʿah “had a taste for both Arabic and Persian poetry and wrote many exquisite verses in both languages.”⁹¹ In her study of the influence of Arabic on Persian and the blending of the two languages in the early development of Persian literature, Karāchī analyzes five of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s ghazals and concludes that out of one hundred and seventy seven words, one hundred are Persian, seventy three are Arabic, and four are mu‎ʿarrab (word that have undergone Arabicization). This is understandable, given that Persian had not yet reestablished its former status amid the dominant cultural and literary prestige of Arabic during that period.⁹²

Is Rābi‎‎ʿah’s Poetry “Women’s Poetry”?

At first, one might ask whether the term “woman” refers to a historical woman or to a modern one. More critically, should “women’s poetry” be assessed by contemporary criteria, or should it be examined within its own historical context? The more nuanced response acknowledges that while environmental, historical, and sociological conditions have shaped women differently across eras, certain physiological, biological, and psychological constants have contributed to shared traits among women that transcend specific temporal or geographical settings. Similarly, in the realm of literature or poetry, there exist overarching features that allow for the identification of “women’s poetry” as a transhistorical category. As some scholars have noted, distinct linguistic patterns, affective expressions, and psychoanalytic dimensions characterize much of what can be recognized as “women’s poetry.”⁹³

On the other hand, differentiating between “women’s language” and “men’s language” is not always straightforward and often invites ambiguity and oversimplification. Nevertheless, certain markers may indicate a “feminine style” or “feminine mode of expression.” As Mahmūd Futūhī contends, “while it is true that there is no such thing as a ‘women’s language,’ we cannot deny the existence of a ‘women’s speech.’ Feminine discourse is marked by distinctive features at the phonetic, lexical, syntactic, pragmatic, and rhetorical level.”⁹⁴ Gender influences both the style and content of language, affecting phonetic patterns, lexical choices, grammatical constructions, semantic nuances, poetic meter, and communicative strategies. A “feminine style” may be identified with emotive and expressive vocabulary; syntactically, through vocatives and repetition; and rhetorically, through a preference for similes and metaphors.

This raises a critical question: does Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry exhibit a distinctly feminine structure, sensibility, and content, or is it simply poetry authored by a woman? On this issue, two divergent perspectives emerge:

The Absence of a Distinctly Feminine Voice in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s Poetry

Some scholars of women’s poetry maintain that the works of female poets prior to the Constitutional Revolution lack a distinctly feminine voice but rather operates within a predominantly masculine literary paradigm. Shamīsā observes that many female poets have mirrored both the internal and external worlds through a male gaze, adopting male-centric themes and emotional frameworks, romanticizing features such as dark tresses, delicate physiques, and the idealized beloved in a manner indistinguishable from their male counterparts. He argues that Persian literature has long been deprived of a genuinely feminine perspective, an introspective and external worldview as seen through discerning women’s eyes. In his view, a truly feminine gaze upon the world has yet to be meaningfully articulated in the Persian literary tradition.⁹⁵ Similarly, Pigāh Ahmadī notes:

One might argue that prior to the Constitutional Revolution, the phrase ‘linguistic and thematic subjugation’ accurately encapsulates the state of Iranian women’s poetry. Despite the considerable number of female poets and the widespread inclination toward poetic expression across various social strata, the constraining ideologies that governed their thought are palpably present in their work. Moreover, the poetic language employed by women during this period is markedly masculine, imitative, and devoid of individuality—a language that, fundamentally, fails to encompass any of the ontological layers or gender-specific attributes of women, even at the sensory or emotional level.⁹⁶

On this basis, Hijāzī contends that Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry does not exhibit a distinctly feminine sensibility.⁹⁷ Similarly, Inām Allāh ‎Alburzī contends that while Rābi‎‎ʿah articulates her emotional states with remarkable candor, her poetry lacks the imagery, vocabulary, and emotive nuances that would signify a distinctively feminine voice. He suggests that if the poet’s name were removed, little in her verses would reveal that they were composed by a woman.⁹⁸ Elsewhere, Alburzī reinforces this perspective by asserting that Rābi‎‎ʿah laid the foundation for an imitative and non-feminine emotionality. The surviving body of her work, he argues, does not reflect a woman’s emotional world. Although love and romantic longing dominate her poetic themes, her extant work, he argues, does not reflect the emotional world of a female lover. Notably, there is not a single verse that unambiguously portrays the affection of a woman directed toward a male beloved.⁹⁹

The Presence of a Feminine Voice in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s Poetry

Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry attests to the fact that, even within the traditionally male-dominated sphere of Persian literary history, women found ways to articulate their emotions and assert their voices. From the earliest stages of Persian poetry through the end of the AH 6th/12th century, despite the prevailing patriarchal context, there were women poets who did not shy away from articulating their feelings and desires. Although only a limited corpus of their work has survived, a distinctly feminine sensibility is discernible within it. The poetry of this period reflects love not merely as an abstract literary theme but emerges as a lived experience, voiced by women who, perhaps for the first time, narrated it through the lens of their own emotional and gendered subjectivity. Their poetry, therefore, becomes a site for articulating female identity and individuality. Among these early poets, figures such as Rābi‎‎ʿah—often considered a pioneer of women’s poetry in Persian—and Mahsatī Ganjavī stand out for composing verses in praise of their male beloveds. Rābi‎‎ʿah distinguishes herself as a poet who loved with unrestrained passion and, according to tradition, ultimately sacrificed her life for that love. Her surviving verses are delicate and poignant, and their prevailing tone is lyrical and emotional. In Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, one encounters raw emotional expression: romantic longing, the anguish of love, protest and lamentation, ecstasy, union and separation, curses and self-reproach—all conveyed with striking candor. As Bertels notes, “her poetry clearly reveals its feminine origin, and it is imbued with a warmth and sincerity that distinguish it from the conventional romantic ghazals.”¹⁰⁰

Zarqānī, drawing on verses such as the following, underscores the feminine quality of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry:

My prayer is this: May God make you fall in love

One as harsh and unkind as you’re guilty of

So you may know love’s pain, its wound and its sorrow

And in separation twist, to grasp my worth tomorrow

He writes: “The personal and unimitated nature of the experience captured in these verses is one of the hallmarks of their artistry. Her poetry makes clear that such qualities are no accident. The curse, though simple, is piercing and it is this aching tenderness that lends her verse its feminine tone.”¹⁰¹ From this perspective, which affirms the feminine distinctiveness of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, one may begin to identify certain features that characterize its gendered voice. These elements can be categorized into three primary domains, which are as follows:

Linguistic Domain

Rābi‎‎ʿah skillfully employs the linguistic resources of Persian poetry, including vocabulary, suffixes, prepositions, and idiomatic expressions, to describe the male beloved in her verse. Her diction frequently features sorrowful and grief-laden expressions, reflecting the emotional depth of a woman who, within the constraints of a patriarchal society—a society in which themes of joy and celebration traditionally dominate poetic expression—dares to make her voice heard. The gentle and nuanced quality of her language exemplifies the stylistic hallmark of women’s poetry. The lyrical, feminine verse written in such a tender style is imbued with emotion and love, which, in separation from the beloved, manifests as sorrowful laments of a woman.¹⁰² The words and combinations Rābi‎‎ʿah employs to express such themes include the pain of love, being entangled in love, tears of blood, lamenting, burning in love like fish burning in a pan, eating one’s heart out, the lover’s ruby-cheek turned to straw-pale, shedding tears at cruel taunts, rebellious in love, hellish torment, longing, woe, alas, restlessness, unappealing, ugly, wrath, burning, cruelty, oppressor, separation, unkind, heartache, and emotional burden. Her imagery includes vivid metaphors such as Majnūn’s tearful eye abiding in the heart of a cloud, seeking refuge in the tulip, a body reduced to a hoop, and so on.

Linguistically, the use of the suffix -ak as a marker of endearment and diminutiveness functions as a distinctive feature of women’s poetry. Its frequency may be taken as an indicator of a feminine stylistic register. Diminutives inherently carry emotional nuance and convey a tone of intimacy and affection. Robin Lakoff, in outlining fourteen characteristics of feminine language, highlights the frequent use of diminutive forms as central to this mode of expression.¹⁰³ In this light, Rābi‎‎ʿah makes deliberate use of the -ak suffix in her portrayal of the male beloved, often accentuating words ending in -ak to enhance affective resonance. For instance:

The beloved entered through my door, smiling

That graceful, fair-faced, sprightly little guest¹⁰⁴

In this verse, Rābi‎‎ʿah combines the diminutive suffix -ak with two other terms ending in -k—“Turk” (the beloved) and “chābūk” (sprightly) —to soften the image of her beloved Baktāsh, a military commander, imbuing the scene with warmth, tenderness, and emotional immediacy.¹⁰⁵ Through this linguistic strategy, she transforms what might have been a forceful or imposing entrance into a moment characterized by affectionate familiarity. Beyond the words khandānak (smiling) and mihmānak (little guest) in the cited couplet, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s corpus contains additional instances where she skillfully exploits this expressive potential of language, such as:

کاشک تنم بازیافتی خبر دل

کاشک دلم بازیافتی خبر تن

کاشک من از تو برستمی به سلامت

آی فسوسا کجا توانم رستن

Would that my body could once more grasp the heart’s state.

Would that my heart could again perceive the body’s state,

Would that I might escape from you in peace

Ah, alas! From where can such release be found?¹⁰⁶

دوش بر شاخک درخت آن مرغ

نوحه می کرد و می گریست به زاری

Last night, upon the tree’s slender branch,

That bird was wailing and weeping in sorrow.¹⁰⁷

Rābi‎‎ʿah’s language aligns closely with what may be terms the “soft pole” (qutb-i narm). She makes less use of words that require strong vocal stress in their pronunciation. Consequently, the structure of her poetry lacks the epic harshness and is instead dominated by lyrical and sensual imagery.¹⁰⁸

Aesthetic Domain

Women’s poetry is often characterized by lyrical and emotional qualities, frequently employing soft and melodious musicality to convey personal and affective experiences. In lyrical poetry, the rhythm of the words is gentle and soothing, effectively conveying the poet’s emotional essence to the reader. During the early centuries of Persian poetry, the metrical system was still evolving, and Rābi‎‎ʿah, like other poets of the AH 4th/10th century, played a significant role in this development, even pioneering new metrical forms.¹⁰⁹ Despite the limited number of surviving works, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetic genius is unmistakable. Shams Qays al-Rāzī notably cited one of her verses as a prime example of a metrical form.¹¹⁰ Rather than using heavy, cumbersome meters, Rābi‎‎ʿah favored short, light, flowing, and melodious meters that harmonize with her feminine emotions and sentiments. For example, her ghazal beginning with “You make me endure the trials of love with deceit” is composed in the meter mafāꜥilun fa‎‎ʿlātun mafāꜥilun fa‎‎ʿalun, a smooth and gentle rhythm from the mujtass metrical system. Similarly, the poem beginning with “O night-wind, carry my message to my beloved” employs the meter mafāꜥīlun mafāꜥīlun mafāꜥīlun mafāꜥīlun. The recurring verb “bar” (carry) at the end of each hemistich imparts a natural softness that complements the lyrical quality of the verse. This meter is exquisitely suited to love letters and may well be the most fitting choice for Rābi‎‎ʿah’s own romantic correspondence.¹¹¹ One of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s quatrains, beginning with “Would that my body could once more grasp the heart’s state” is composed in the mufta‎‎ʿilun fa‎‎ʿalāt mufta‎‎ʿalun fa‎‎ʿ meter, categorized under the munsarih system. It is melodic, smooth, and pleasing to the ear.¹¹²

In terms of poetic form, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s experimentation with the ghazal form, which provides a fitting framework for lyrical poetry and further enhances the distinctly feminine character of her poetry. Her most famous surviving poem, composed in the ghazal form, is a romantic piece that embodies this lyrical and emotive quality.

His love has once again ensnared me,

All my efforts have proven useless.

Love is a sea with no visible shore,

How can you swim across it, O wise one?¹¹³

One of the critical approaches to understanding women’s poetry is the analysis of rhetorical figures.¹¹⁴ Women poets have generally employed fewer rhetorical devices in their poetry, particularly metaphors, compound creation, and descriptive language. Despite this tendency, Rābi‎‎ʿah manages to skillfully utilize the aesthetic potentials of the Persian language. In the realm of aesthetics in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, simile and metaphor are the most salient rhetorical devices. Her similes, in particular, often conform to the pattern of comparisons between perceptible elements, which is termed tashbīh-i mahsūs bih mahsūs (“simile of the perceptible to the perceptible”).

One of the most distinctly feminine verses of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s corpus is one in which the poet metaphorically compares her lips or cheeks to ruby. The phrase “my ruby hue” is undoubtedly a feminine metaphor—arguably the first instance in Persian literary history where a woman poet uses such imagery. This serves as the strongest evidence against the notion that Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry lacks a distinctly feminine voice:

Your lips¹¹⁵ are like honey, your face like the moon,

Your cheeks are tulip-petals, your hair is black as night.

The color of those tulip-like cheeks of yours

Has turned my ruby hue into the color of straw.¹¹⁶

On the other hand, another noteworthy verse that reveals a distinctly feminine sensibility is the following, in which Rābi‎‎ʿah uses a vivid simile to liken the intensity of her passion to “a fish burning in the pan”:

You are like a fish, and I burn like a fish in the pan

The sorrow of your love is not enough; you have added cruelty from afar¹¹⁷

In other verses, Rābi‎‎ʿah continues to use the rhetorical figure of simile, specifically the comparison of perceptible-to-perceptible elements, to depict the physical beauty of her male beloved in the following manner:

Your lips are like honey, your face like the moon,

Your cheeks are tulip-petals, your hair is black as night.

God’s faith is undone by

My obsession with those moon-like cheeks.

Thirty-two hidden pearls

Lie beneath two tulip-petal lips—ah!¹¹⁸

The principal rhetorical device in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry is metaphor, and her themes of compassion, nature, and love are built upon it. In the following verses, her themes are constructed through metaphorical expression:

The morning breeze carried no musk from Tibet

Then how did the world become filled with such fragrance?

A teardrop, finding shelter in the tulip

Remained, like wine, in a ruby-red cup¹¹⁹

Of the notable aesthetic features of women’s poetry is the use of color-rich vocabulary. Female poets, more so than their male counterparts, rely on chromatic language and visual patterning to articulate and evoke emotion, set the tone, and convey layered meaning. This feature is also evident in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, where she employs color imagery in references to grass, flowers, garments, and even the forms and patterns of fire, among others. Such use contributes to the distinct stylistic signature of her poetry. This tendency is illustrated in the following example:

When the garden became a sanctuary for countless blooms

The meadow assumed the hues of Mānī’s Arzhang

Perhaps Majnūn’s eyes are in the clouds

For the roses have taken on the hue of Laylī’s face

Like a monk dressed in a blue robe,

Perhaps the violet has embraced the Christian faith¹²⁰

In another extant poem, she writes:

It etched the mark of Āzar’s idols on the water’s face,

And revealed Mānī’s magic’s trace.

I fear the fragrant flower will lose its color—

For this tattletale dawn will tear away its veil with the wind.

It seems, for every unworthy eye,

The wind has unveiled the bride of the garden.¹²¹

Conceptual Domain

In Persian literature, although women poets have engaged with didactic, mystical, and panegyric genres, their poetry tends to favor emotional themes, often marked by a refined romantic sensibility and an embodiment of feminine affect. In contrast, male poets have more frequently explored epic, instructional, and mystical genres, transforming poetry into a domain of pride (heroism), pedagogy, and spiritual exploration. Women, by comparison, have turned to poetry to express emotion, thought, and sentiment.¹²² In light of this distinction and based on the surviving poems attributed to Rābi‎‎ʿah, her poetry, characterized primarily by lyrical and romantic themes, may be regarded as distinctly feminine. While her poetic repertoire was not confined exclusively to motifs of love and lyricism, the extant verses are largely cast in the ghazal form and exhibit a pronounced emphasis on romantic expression. Rābi‎‎ʿah appears to have favored themes of love over those of moral instruction, mysticism, or warfare.

Some scholars maintain that until the AH late 5th and early 6th/11th and 12th centuries, the ghazal had primarily served as a vehicle for describing the physical beauty of the beloved. In contrast, Rābi‎‎ʿah bint Ka‎ʿb Quzdārī is often credited as the first poet to articulate the very nature and emotional reality of love itself.¹²³ Love emerges as the central motif in her poetry, conveyed either through intimate depictions of romantic states or in whispered dialogue with the beloved. As Shamīsā notes, both Rābi‎‎ʿah and Mahsatī Ganjavī dared to express their love for men openly.¹²⁴ This is a bold literary gesture in their cultural context. From this perspective, Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry may rightly be described as feminine. The following lines exemplify these themes:

His love has once again ensnared me,

All my efforts have proven useless.

Love is a sea with no visible shore,

How can you swim across it, O wise one?¹²⁵

Elsewhere, Rābi‎‎ʿah conveys the burning anguish of love in the following terms:

Not once did you show me a moment of care,

Nor think of this heart in its deep despair.

We drank the bitter cup for you in pain,

We died for love, but our deaths were in vain.¹²⁶

Rābi‎‎ʿah depicts separation and the pain it entails in a manner that is distinctly feminine—evocative, emotionally charged, and deeply sorrowful:

I lament because I am parted from my beloved

But why do you mourn, when you have your companion’s support?

I do not claim to weep tears of blood,

But what do you say, who do not shed such tears? ¹²⁷

The emotional tenor, often more pronounced in poetry associated with a feminine voice, also finds expression in elements such as supplication, yearning, lamentation, and cursing, all of which are discernible in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry. For instance:

You make me endure the trials of love with deceit

What excuse will you offer before God, the Glorious and Exalted?

In love for you, I dare not be rebellious

Yet in my faith, you become the rebel, it seems

Without you, I want no paradise; with you, even hell will do

For without you, sugar is poison, and with you, poison is honey¹²⁸

Another significant surviving couplet in Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry reveals the sorrowful inner world of a solitary woman, offering a clear testament to the feminine quality of her verse. Here, the love-stricken Rābi‎‎ʿah, overcome with grief at the pain of separation, scratches her face with her nails—a culturally specific, gendered gesture of mourning. In a striking escalation, the wounded poet claws even at the wounds already inflicted:

I was a lover, ailing, and without means

My face torn by nails; my wounds scratched open anew¹²⁹

Rābi‎‎ʿah is the first woman poet in Persian literary history to speak with unapologetic candor, emotional intensity, and assertive individuality about her distinctly feminine desires, ultimately sacrificing her life for the fervent passion that consumed her. Free from pretense or artifice, she claimed the authority to portray a man from a woman’s perspective.¹³⁰ Rābi‎‎ʿah is also the earliest known poet—male or female—to articulate the nature of love not as an abstract or mystical ideal but as an embodied, concrete experience, directed toward a vividly characterized beloved. This thematic approach remains rare in the broader corpus of Persian literature. As Zarqānī notes, Rābi‎‎ʿah was not only the first woman to compose poetry in the Darī language but also the first to devote a portion of her poetic expression to the theme of earthly, human love.¹³¹

One of the most significant indicators of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s distinctly feminine sensibility is her poetic engagement with (the theme of) her “body.” She is the first female poet in Persian literary history to explicitly reference her own body as a site of emotional and existential reflection:

Would that my body could once more grasp the heart’s state.

Would that my heart could again perceive the body’s state,

Would that I might escape from you in peace

Ah, alas! From where can such release be found?¹³²

Elsewhere, she writes:

My body has become like a hoop, in longing I stay,

Hoping a curl of your hair will pass through it one day.¹³³

For this reason, some scholars, emphasizing the feminine dimensions of Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry, argue that her romantic verses convey a depth of feeling and emotional sincerity, coupled with a clarity of expression, that holds resonance for female readers.¹³⁴

Conclusion

Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī is the earliest known female poet in Persian literary history whose works have survived. She is widely regarded as the first woman to articulate the nature of love in verse. Her poetry affirms the identity and individuality of a female voice within a predominantly male literary tradition. The poetic style of mulammaʿ—a technique that blends Persian and Arabic—is attributed by some scholars to Rābi‎‎ʿah as one of her innovations, marking her as the earliest poet to experiment with this form.

In the limited corpus of poetry attributed to her, the emotional intensity emerges as a defining feature, conveyed with palpable sincerity and heartfelt immediacy. Although Rābi‎‎ʿah’s expressions of love are earthly and human in nature, later Sufi commentators have interpreted her verses allegorically, portraying her as a mystic devotee. This tendency has led to a conflation of her identity with that of the renowned mystic Rābi‎‎ʿah ʿAdavīyyah in various Sufi texts.

Contrary to the claim that Rābi‎‎ʿah’s poetry lacks a distinctly feminine voice, a close analysis across three domains—linguistic, aesthetic, and conceptual—demonstrates a profound and unmistakable femininity in her work. Linguistically, her use of soft, nuanced language, including diminutives such as the Persian suffix -ak, as well as expressions of sorrow and longing, reflect a tone marked by emotional intimacy. Aesthetically, her poetry favors gentle musicality and fluid metrical patterns that enhance its lyrical and romantic character. She draws upon color-rich vocabulary and “perceptible to perceptible” similes that are rooted in sensory imagery, such as likening a restless lover to “a fish burning in a pan,” or describing her crimson lips as “ruby,” all of which contribute to the feminine texture of her verse. Conceptually, love stands as the dominant motif in her poetry. Her verses reflect subtle and tender emotions, voiced in a direct, palpable, and at times painful manner, as she speaks of her beloved, Baktāsh. Among the clearest indicators of the feminine quality of her poetry is her explicit reference to her own body and physical presence, a rarity in early Persian poetry. In sum, Rābi‎‎ʿah Quzdārī’s poetry is distinctly feminine in language, form, and content. Her pioneering role and literary contributions deserve full recognition within the historical framework of women’s poetry in Iran.

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Pourrastegar, A. & Mohammadi, R. (2025). Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry. In Women Poets Iranica. Encyclopaedia Iranica Foundation https://poets.iranicaonline.org/article/rabi%ea%9c%a5ah-quzdari-the-vanguard-of-womens-poetry/

Pourrastegar, Amir and Mohammadi, Rasoul. "Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry." Women Poets Iranica, Encyclopaedia Iranica Foundation, 2025. https://poets.iranicaonline.org/article/rabi%ea%9c%a5ah-quzdari-the-vanguard-of-womens-poetry/

Pourrastegar, A. & Mohammadi, R. (2025). Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry. In Women Poets Iranica. Encyclopaedia Iranica Foundation. Available from: https://poets.iranicaonline.org/article/rabi%ea%9c%a5ah-quzdari-the-vanguard-of-womens-poetry/ [Accessed December 30, 2025].

Pourrastegar, Amir & Mohammadi, Rasoul. "Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry." In Women Poets Iranica, (Encyclopaedia Iranica Foundation, 2025) https://poets.iranicaonline.org/article/rabi%ea%9c%a5ah-quzdari-the-vanguard-of-womens-poetry/

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Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry

Rābi‎ʿah Quzdārī: The Vanguard of Women’s Poetry

Historical Geography of Quzdar

The Dawn of Persian Women’s Poetry

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