Sipīdah Judayrī (b. 1355/1976) is an Iranian poet, literary critic, and translator whose body of work includes eight poetry collections, a short story collection, and an anthology of her poems. This entry offers a contextualizing descriptive overview of Judayrī’s poetic oeuvre. It begins with a brief biographical sketch, followed by an analysis of her poetic style. The discussion then turns to the central themes of her work, situating them within her sociopolitical and intellectual background. The final section addresses the critical reception of her poetry and includes a bibliography along with a list of her literary awards. The poet herself contributed significantly to this research by providing access to her publications, translating titles, facilitating the retrieval of critical reviews, and, most notably, sharing insights into her personal experiences and ideological perspectives during more than four hours of interviews¹The interviews were conducted via Zoom and phone, both recorded with the poet’s permission, on 8/22/2024 and 1/7/2025. Each interview lasted over two hours. .

Biography

Sipīdah Judayrī was born on Khurdād 2, 1355/May 23, 1976, in Ahvaz, Iran. Her mother was a biology teacher, and her father, a committed communist activist, struggled to secure stable employment due to his political affiliations. During Judayrī’s early childhood, the family relocated to Tehran in search of better economic opportunities. Although her father eventually ceased his political activities to protect his family from potential repercussions, his ideological convictions left a lasting impression on Judayrī. Raised in the capital, she developed a strong interest in poetry from an early age. Her literary influences included classical Persian poets, particularly Saʿdī (AH 592/1213–670/1291), as well as the early works of Furūgh Farrukhzād (1313/1934–1345/1966). As a young poet, Judayrī composed rhythmic verse shaped by her study of traditional Persian literature and modernist poetic voices. Despite her strong passion for the arts and filmmaking, she pursued a degree in chemical engineering at university, largely due to her parents’ insistence on choosing a practical field promising stable employment. Concurrently, she remained engaged with her artistic interests by attending filmmaking classes and poetry reading sessions. During this period, she met Rasūl Yūnān (b. 1348/1969) at Farhangʹsarā-yi Andīshah (Andishah cultural center), who encouraged her to publish her first poetry collection,Khāb-i dukhtar-i dūʹzīst (Dream of an amphibious girl).²Sipīdah Judayrī, Khāb-i dukhtar-i dūʹzīst [Dreams of an amphibious girl] (Tehran: Miʿyār, 1379/2000). A pivotal moment in Judayrī’s literary development came through her participation in Farā Pūyān’s poetry gatherings, where she encountered leading poets of the time, including ʿAlī Bābāchāhī (b. 1321/1942), Siyyid ʿAlī Sālihī (b. 1334/1955), Muhammad Huqūqī (1316/1937–1388/2009), Pigāh Ahmadī (b. 1353/1974), and Ruzā Jamālī (b. 1356/1977), as well as the prominent critic Bābak Ahmadī (b. 1327/1948). These sessions exposed her to the Shiʿr-i Zabānʹgarā (language-oriented poetry), which dominated the Iranian literary scene during the 1370s/1990s. Immersion in this milieu significantly shaped her poetic voice, particularly through her engagement with linguistic experimentation, a defining feature of her work.

The death of Sipīdah Judayrī’s only sibling, her brother, in a car accident marked a profound turning point in her life and worldview. Toward the end of the 1380s/2000s, she briefly worked as an engineer in a private factory for approximately six months but found the position unfulfilling and resigned. She continued working as a professional translator in the same field for two years. During this time, she met her future husband, Ihsān ʿĀbīdī (b.1360/1981), and subsequently transitioned to journalism, contributing to various newspapers and magazines as both a translator and columnist. Her experience in the media industry exposed the acute underrepresentation of women and prompted her to establish the Khurshīd (Sun) Award for Women’s Poetry, in 1387/2008. The award aimed to recognize the best poetry collection published by an Iranian woman each year. While the inaugural ceremony proceeded without incident, the second coincided with the 1388/2009 Junbish-i sabz (Green movement) and the intensified suppression of journalists, writers, and poets. As a result, the second awards ceremony was held privately. In response to the increasingly repressive climate, Judayrī announced that the prize would henceforth also evaluate censored and unpublished manuscripts, an act of defiance that attracted the attention of Iranian authorities. Her public support for persecuted writers further heightened government scrutiny. Concerned primarily for the safety of her infant son, she and her husband decided to leave Iran temporarily. Upon the recommendation of a colleague, she applied to the International Cities of Refuge Network (ICORN) guest writer program. After a year and a half, she left Iran for Italy with her husband and son in Isfand 1389/February 2011.

Although the ICORN fellowship was initially set for two years, Sipīdah Judayrī and her family did not return to Iran, as the political climate remained unchanged. She learned that one of the sponsors of the Khurshīd Award had been repeatedly interrogated by authorities, who continued to inquire about her whereabouts and activities. Around this time, she and her husband also discovered that their son was autistic and required specialized care that would not be readily available in Iran. Considering these circumstances, her husband secured a position with Rādiyū Fardā (literally, “Radio Tomorrow”), prompting the family’s relocation to Prague, where they resided for the next four years.

While in Prague, Judayrī remained active as both writer and translator. She translated Jul Maroh’s graphic novel Ābī garmʹtarīn rang ast (Le bleu est une couleur chaude)³Julie Maroh, Ābī garmʹtarīn rang ast [Le bleu est une couleur chaude], trans. Sipīdah Judayrī (Paris: Nāʹkujā, 2014). into Persian and published a new poetry collection in Iran titled Va ghayrah (Et cetera) in 1393/2014.⁴Sipīdah Judayrī, Va ghayrah [Et cetera] (Tehran: Būtīmār, 1393/2014). However, the book was banned shortly after its release. After four years in the Czech Republic, and primarily due to the need for more comprehensive care for their son, the family relocated to the United States. Currently, Judayrī lives in Washington, D.C. with her son. In recent years, she has increasingly turned to social media, particularly Instagram, as a platform to share her literary work and engage with her audience.

Three pivotal evens have shaped Judayrī’s influential poetic voice. The first is her family background and upbringing in an environment infused with socialist ideals and left-wing political activism. A distinctly communist sensibility informs the central ideological current in her work, particularly in her more recent poetry. The second key event was her participation in the Farā Pūyān poetry reading sessions, which introduced her to the aesthetics and theoretical framework of Shiʿr-i Zabānʹgarā and its devoted and diverse community of practitioners. Elements of linguistic experimentation derived from this tradition became increasingly prominent in her work, at times occupying a central role in her poetic expression. She continues to identify with this school, though she has developed her own distinctive tone and approach within the tradition. The third transformative event was her departure from Iran in 1389/2011. Although initially conceived as a temporary exile, it became permanent. Living in various countries and adapting to environments where Persian is not the dominant language has profoundly altered her perspective and poetic voice. As a poet in diaspora, she has become more attuned to the broader world and the political forces that shape it. As a global citizen, Judayrī dedicates her work to raising awareness about colonialism and engaging more actively as a socially conscious poet committed to progressive change.

Style

Judayrī identifies herself with the Shiʿr-i Zabānʹgarā or Shiʿr-i Zabānʹmihvar (language-centered poetry), though she refrains from affiliating herself with any specific figure within the movement. She is often associated with the Jaryān-i shiʿrī-yi dahah-ʾi haftād (The poetic movement of the seventies), a literary current that closely engaged with the core principles of Language Poetry—a movement that gained prominence in the United States during the 1970s and 1980s. Language Poetry is characterized by its focus on the linguistic medium itself, emphasizing the reader’s active role in the creation of meaning. For practitioners of this style, “language is not something that explains or translates experience, but is the source of experience. Language is perception, through itself.”⁵Douglas Messerli, “Language” Poetries: An Anthology (New York: New Directions, 1987), 2.

Language Poetry is… insisting on the materiality of its mediums and its distance from whatever we tend to think of as natural or immediate… Language poetry questions its own status and forces us to question its question. Resisting the illusion of transparency, the Language poetry tends to use artifice in such a way as to force open given forms and break habitual patterns of attention…thus Language poetry tends to privilege the abnormal over the normal, the marginal over the mainstream, the artificial over the plain.⁶Linda Reinfeld, Language Poetry: Writing as Rescue (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992), 4.

Several features of this poetic trend are evident in Judayrī’s work, including bāzīʹhā-yi zabānī (linguistic plays), lexical and syntactic innovation, the incorporation of colloquial language, hanjārʹgurīzī-yi nahvī (syntactic deviation), and sipīd-nivīsī (blank writing). These characteristics will be illustrated with specific examples in the sections that follow.

Before examining these examples, it is important to note that these stylistic attributes render the translation of Judayrī’s poetry into other languages either impossible or, more accurately, ineffectual. When a poet’s aim is to foreground language itself—its structure, rhythm, and form—rather than to convey a fixed meaning, the poetic construction becomes the essence of the work and resists translation. For this reason, only literal translations of the original Persian texts are provided in the subsequent analysis.

1. Playing with Language

In brief, playing with language refers to the use of stylistic and linguistic techniques such as omission, repetition, word fragmentation, the invention or manipulation of unconventional verbs, and similar strategies aimed at enhancing the interpretability of the text.⁷Saʿīd Zuhrahʹvand, Jaryān-shināsī-yi shiʿr-i dahah-ʾi haftād; Barrisī-yi jaryānʹhā-yi naw dar shiʿr-i dahah-ʾi haftād [Poetic movements in poetry of the seventies; Analyzing the new movements in poetry of the seventies] (Tehran: Rūzigār, 1395/2016), 157.

لَک از لَکَم باز می‌شود
و خنده‌هایم کوتاه
از روی صندلی
تکرار می‌کند    لَک از لَک
                    به شعر   
                    به عشق
                  به صورت

Stain opens of my stain
And my short laughs
From the chair
Repeats stain of stain
To poem, to love, to form⁸Sipīdah Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast [The good girl who is a poet] (Tehran: Nigāh, 1391/2012), 41.

کنار یک شلوار راه می‌روم
من از او بلوزترم
تَرَم؟       خیسم؟       نمی‌دانم!
چرا به راه نمی‌روم؟!….

I am walking alongside a pair of trousers
I am more blouse than he is
Am I soaked? Wet?  I don’t know!
Why don’t I find my path?!….⁹Sipīdah Judayrī, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man [The pink inclined to my blood] (Tehran: Sālis, 1386/2007), 21.

In these examples, Judayrī plays with familiar words such as lak (stain), and uses them to construct new linguistic structures that generate fresh concepts. When she repeats the word lak, it becomes the name of a bird in Persian, Lak lak (stork). Using the verb, baz shudan (being open) can at the same time refer to a bird getting ready to fly, and also lak az lak baz shudan, which is a made-up phrase, could mean metaphorically letting the sadness fade little by little.  In the second piece, when she symbolically refers to the man as a pair of trousers, the poet herself also becomes a piece of clothing, a blouse. By adding the suffix tar to a noun, which is used to form comparative adjectives, she draws attention to the word and emphasizes the symbolic meaning behind it.

These new concepts may not have direct or easily accessible meanings but instead work toward forming a distinct poetic image that can only be understood within the context of language itself. This does not imply that the poem lacks meaning; rather, the poet employs language as a tool to reframe familiar concepts—such as lak shudan (getting stained) or walking alongside a pair of trousers, aka a man, as a symbol of patriarchy—in order to capture the reader’s attention by compelling them to engage more deeply with the language.

2. Using Spoken (Everyday) Language

The use of everyday language is a common feature in modern Persian poetry. Within this trend, poets deliberately employ oral and even folkloric forms of language to reject the artificiality of classical poetic diction and to emphasize linguistic simplicity.¹⁰Zuhrahʹvand, Jaryān shināsī-yi shiʿr-i dahah-ʾi haftād, 164–65. The use of spoken language serves both as a means of exploring the expressive potential of language in creating new poetic imagery and as a form of resistance against traditional poetic frameworks and readers who recognize only a singular, classical form of linguistic expression as poetic.

ببین چقدر شعرهای من تُپُلَند!
رو به روی یک شعر    علامت تعجب     ایستاده سر خم
                                                               [ می کند…
ببینید چقدر به آنها چیز خورانده‌اید:
و دیگر استفراغ‌هایم بوی شعر می‌دهد
و توی فحش‌هایم شعر می‌دهم!
دهانم شما را نگه می‌دارد…
دهانم را نگه دارید:    چقدر تُف کنم؟
تُپُل‌هایم که شعر،       لاغری‌ام که زیبا می‌شود
چه خون‌ِ شعرهایم بوی پانسمانِ شما را بدهد،
چه ندهد!

Look how plum my poems are!
Face to face with a poem, exclamation mark bows its head…
See how much you force-fed them:
And now my vomiting smells of poem
 And I include poem in my curses!My mouth holds you…
Hold my mouth: how many times should I spit?
My plums are poems, my thinness becomes beautiful
Either my poems’ blood smells of your bandages or not!¹¹Judayrī, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man, 17–18.

One of Judayrī’s distinctive poetic features is her use of slang, and proverbs. These elements demonstrate her mastery of the expressive capacity of language in generating new imagery and meaning.

سرم برای کسی درد نمی‌کند
و حرف‌هایم به جای صندلی‌های برگشته می‌خندند
و فرزندهایی که مثل پیچک می‌زنند دور سرم…
به هر حال، سنگ‌هایت روی سنگ من بند نخواهد شد.

My head doesn’t ache for anyone
And my words laugh instead of upside-down chairs
And children who wrap around my head like ivy…
Anyhow, your rocks don’t stand on my rock.¹²Sipīdah Judayrī, Va zīr-ipūst-i man pur az jaryānʹhā-yi khalī ast [And emptiness is flowing under my skin]  (‏London: H&S Media, 2015), 10.

دری که پیکر نداشت     گفت لِنگه ندارملَنگ پای تو بودم مرگ!

The door that didn’t have a frame said I don’t have a pair
I was crippled (waiting for you) for you, death!¹³Judayrī, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man, 16.

Another method of incorporating spoken language into poetry is through the use of modern or even non-Persian terms. For instance, Judayrī employs hashtags in her poetry to establish an intertextual link between the poem and the digital world, invoking the concept of shared experiences and connecting the poem’s content to broader social and cultural discourses.

گول کافه‌هایتان را خوردم
گول حرف‌های کوچک و بزرگتان
#نه_به _این_غصه‌_ها که خورده‌ام
#نه به آوازی که نخوانده‌ام
#نه به سرراهی که نرفتم
#نه به کوه از تو، #نه به شور از تو، # نه به شب از تو، # نه به نور از تو، #نه به شبکوهی که ندیدم
#نه به روباهی که صبوری کرد
#نه به غازی که دوری کرد

I was fooled by your cafes
Fooled by your big and small words
#no_to_the_ experienced_ sorrows
#no to the song I never sang
#no to the path I never took
#no to the mountain of you, #no to the enthusiasm of you, #no to the night of you, #no to the light of you, #no to not seeing Shabkūh
#no to the fox that was patient
#no to the goose that stayed far¹⁴Sipīdah Judayrī, Kaf-i khiyābān, farāq-i sālī būd [The street’s longing for that year ] (London: Mihrī , 2019), 34–35.

3. Linguistic Innovations and Deviation of Standard Syntactic Structures

Rizā Barāhanī (1314/1935–1401/2022), one of the most important and influential poets and theorists of Language Poetry in Iran, argues that the poet must liberate language from the patriarchal syntax that has historically dominated it.¹⁵Ismāʿīl Shafaq and Balāl Bahrānī, “Jaryān-i shiʿr-i zabān dar dahah-ʾi haftād bā taʾkīd bar shiʿr-i Rizā Barāhanī” [The movement of language poetry in the seventies with a focus on the poetry of Rizā Barāhanī] Majallah-ʾi shiʿrʹpazhūhi, Būstān-i adab 40, no. 2 (1398/2019): 148. To achieve this, poets are required to disrupt conventional language usage and continually explore the potential of linguistic structures, resulting in various forms of linguistic innovation. Purposeful syntactic deviation often leads to such innovation, which may include the creation of new words or novel applications of familiar concepts. Most commonly, however, these deviations manifest in the unconventional conjugation of verbs, the verbalization of nouns, or the manipulation of prepositions to generate new syntactic arrangements.

نی شدیم
چکه چکه
می‌غَمیم

We became reed
Drip by drip
Are soaking in sorrow¹⁶Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 51.

که به دام از تو، که به خام از تو، که به شَه از تو، که به وَه از تو! آباد کرده‌ام
[ke be dām az tū, ke be khām az tū, ke be shah az tū, ke be vah az tū! Ābād kardeam]

صد یار¹⁷Judayrī, Kaf-i khiyābān, farāq-i sālī būd, 35 (Since this poem focuses on propositions, even literal translation is not appropriate. A Transliteration has been provided.
[sad yār]

These deviations are employed to intensify emotional expression rather than to construct imagery. For instance, when Judayrī uses the form mīghamīm (we are sorrowful), it underscores the persistence and continuity of profound sadness. In Persian, one of the uses of the simple present tense, which consists of mi plus the present stem, is to demonstrate an action that takes place continuously and routinely. Judayri adopts the word gham (grief) which is a noun, as a verb, and conjugates it in the simple present tense. This grammatical innovation adds depth to the word’s meaning and effect by emphasizing that the sorrow is a continuous feeling that we are facing every second of our existence. Similarly, the unconventional use of prepositions in unexpected syntactic positions, as shown in the second example, where the words kih, bā, and az are used three times consecutively, conveys a sense of uncontrollable excitement. It appears that the poet cannot contain her emotions, and even her words are getting out of control and untamed as she conveys her excitement. This way of playing with prepositions makes the translation difficult and even meaningless. The focus is on how this word organization makes the readers feel, not the exact meaning of each word. These poems convey the poet’s deep emotions and affective states, prioritizing emotional resonance over the visual or descriptive imagery typically associated with poetry.

 

4. Blank Writing

Blank writing is a widely used technique among poets of this movement, wherein the poet offers suggestive cues toward a particular meaning or emotion (signifier) while allowing the reader to complete the thought and infer the intended message. This approach introduces an open-endedness and relativity that resists fixed or dogmatic conclusions, fostering a sense of liberation from predictable interpretations (significance) and, at times, approaching asemia.¹⁸Zuhrahʹvand, Jaryān shināsī-yi shiʿr-i dahah-ʾi haftād, 245. As Bruce Andrews notes, “a hollowing out of lower depths and labyrinthine caves of signification can occur within the gaps.”¹⁹Messerli, “Language” Poetries, 5. While instances of blank writing do appear in Judayrī’s poetry, they are relatively infrequent and may also be interpreted as forms of structural deviation.

سوختن تن را کوچک می‌کند
گور را به خواب؛
خواب گورهای دیگر
و عشق‌های بی سر

Burning makes the body small
Tomb to sleep;
Dream of other tombs
And headless loves²⁰Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 43.

ای رستم از کرور کرورِ من شده!
شروعِ دسته‌بندیِ آغوش است

O Rustam of becoming my Kror Kror
It’s the beginning of the categorization of embrace²¹Judayrī, Kaf-i khiyābān, farāq-i sālī būd, 58.

Language serves as the central element in Judayrī’s poetry. Like other poets associated with shiʿr-i dahah-ʾi haftād(poetry of the seventies), she prioritizes linguistic innovation and language play over conventional meaning or poetic imagery. The features of Language Poetry are particularly prominent in her second and third collections. However, her exclusive focus on language and formal experimentation began to shift following her forced migration—a transition that will be explored in the next section in relation to the main themes of her work.

Main Themes

In this section, I will examine the main themes in Judayrī’s body of work, analyzing them book by book and providing examples to illustrate the significance of each theme across different phases of her literary career. By “main theme,” I refer to the most recurrent subjects within each collection and period. Judayrī’s poetry can be divided into two distinct periods: before immigration and after immigration.

1. Before Immigration

While living in Iran, particularly during the period from the mid-1370s/1990s to the mid-1380s/2000s (1375/1996–1385/2006), Judayrī’s poetry reflected the sociopolitical climate of the country and focused more on personal concerns. As a young poet navigating life under these conditions, her work often engaged with themes related to her lived experience as an Iranian citizen. In her first two collections, the central subjects are love and the poetic vocation itself—that is, language and the act of writing poetry.

تلفن، هر بار
خمیازه می‌کشید،
میامد؛
در جیغ-خندهایش
پسرکی دبستانی
سوی تابستان تعطیل
می دوید…
می‌رفت؛
تلفن
خواب
نمی‌دید؛
میامد!
روی حرف‌هایش
لی لی بازی می‌کرد؛
می‌پرید…
می‌رفت…
میامد…
قصه به سر نرسید
کلاغه به خونه ش
رسید!

The phone, each time
Was yawning,
Coming;
In its scream-laughs
A little schooler boy
Toward the summer break
Was running…
Going;
The phone
Wasn’t dreaming;
It was Coming!
It  was jumping on its words;
Jumping…
Going…
Coming…
The story did not come to an end
But the crow
Made it home!²²Judayrī, Khāb-i dukhtar-i dūʹzīst, 23–24.

In this poem, the excitement and anxiety of a teenage girl living in the restrictive, post-war environment of Iran are conveyed through a series of rapid, fragmented events. To fully grasp its emotional depth, the reader must be familiar with the cultural context, particularly the experience of using public telephones and the anticipation of receiving a call from a forbidden summer love, with all the accompanying fear and drama of potential discovery. The most interesting aspect of this poem is that the girl’s excitement is a shared feeling that the phone also experiences. Playing with the telephone dialer is described as jumping, going, and coming, the same actions that the teenagers involved in the scene are doing. The phone also experiences a teenage love dream, which is suddenly disrupted by an unexpected call and its buzz.  Khāb-i dukhtar-i dūʹzīst, Judayrī’s first published collection, strikes a balance between linguistic experimentation and accessible meaning.

Her second collection, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man, marks the beginning of her distinctive poetic voice and stylistic development among the poets of her generation. While the recurring themes continue to center on personal experiences such as love and relationships, there is an increasing emphasis on refining poetic technique. Notably, this collection reveals a stronger inclination toward exploring the possibilities of language itself, rather than conveying fixed meanings.

 (دوستت دارم شب بخیر!…       صبح بخیر دوستت دارم!)
آقایی که حالم به هم می‌خورد      فشارسنج!
گل‌های صورتی دارم:
بوی گند!
گم‌تر که داری می‌شوی       سفیدی
(مانده‌ام شاعر را تمرین کنم یا عشق؟)

بگذار کلمه‌ها شنا کنند
توی دهانی که سفید است.

(خوب است نویسنده را تمرین کنم تا عشق!) 

شکل گرفته‌ام هر چند
آه از دهانی که سفید است!

Love you, good night!…   Good morning, love you!
The gentleman who makes me nauseous  blood pressure monitor!
I have pink flowers:
Stink!
Now that you are getting more lost    you’re white
(I’m torn, should I practice becoming a poet, or love??)
Let the words swim
In a mouth that’s white
(It’s good to practice becoming a writer rather than love!)
I have taken shape, though
Ouch, from a mouth that’s white!²³Judayrī, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man, 35–36.

Judayrī’s third collection, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, was published in Iran after her departure from the country. Following her experience with Junbish-i sabz and her involvement in supporting imprisoned authors and poets—a stance that ultimately compelled her to leave Iran—darker themes and political concerns began to emerge in her work. One of the recurring emotional undercurrents in this collection is tars (fear), which becomes a persistent motif and continues to appear in her subsequent writings.

می‌ترسم
از رنگ برای رنگی شدن
از شعر برای گوش‌هایت
کاش گوش‌هایت را گاهی بلند می‌کردی عزیزم کاش

در طول قبرها رنگ‌ها عوض می‌شود
در طول قبرها شعرها عوض می‌شود
می‌ترسم
در دیواره‌ات یخ می‌زنی
مثل پرنده‌ای که از گوش‌های من می‌گذرد و می‌ماند…
در طول صدا صدا عوض می‌شود
می‌ترسم
از گوش‌ها و دیوارها
از زیر یخ بستن بودن می‌ترسم
و در قبر    همیشه دهانی هست     که بسته نمی‌شود

I’m scared
Of color of becoming colored
Of poem for your ears
I wish you would sometimes turn up your ears my love, I wish
Along the graves the colors change
Along the graves the poems change
I’m scared
You are freezing in your bulkhead
Like a bird that passes through my ears and stays…
Along the voice, the voice changes
I’m scared
Of ears and walls
Scared of being trapped under the ice
And in a grave, there is always a mouth that does not close²⁴Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 16–17.

In this poem, Judayrī evokes the fear of death and the pervasive sense of surveillance. Death, depicted as a cold grave resembling an open, careless mouth, looms as a sudden and unpredictable threat, one that may befall her or anyone close to her.

Another theme that emerges during this period, and becomes a recurring subject from this collection onward, is motherhood, the dilemmas it presents, and its inherent challenges and anxieties.

\دامنم از سیاه‌ترین جایش تنگ شد
موهایم از سیاه‌ترین جایش کوتاه

وقتی کنار می‌رفتم     بی‌حرف، بی شکل، آبستن
وقتی کنار آقای کودک      بی رنگ می شدم
کم می‌شدم از شعرهایم
کم می شدم از هوا
وقتی کنارهایم       کنارتر می‌رفتند
وقتی غروب‌هایم    غروب‌تر می‌شدنددامن دامن تنگ
مو به مو کم رنگ
می شدم 

My skirt grew tight from its darkest part
My hair shortened from its darkest part
When I moved aside, wordless, shapeless, pregnant
When beside the little master, I faded of color
I became less of my poems
I became less of the air
When my corners moved farther aside
When my sunsets sank deeper into dusk
Skirt by skirt, tighter
Strand by strand, fainter
I became²⁵Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 38.

2. After Immigration

Judayrī’s departure from Iran in 1389/2011 marks a pivotal moment in the trajectory of her poetic work. Exile redefined her conception of “home” and significantly broadened her worldview. She began to identify as a global citizen, with sympathies extending beyond the sociopolitical concerns of Iran to encompass global events and human experiences. This expanded perspective becomes a central theme in the poetry she produced after emigration. The transformation is reflected not only in content but also poetic form. While Judayrī continues to experiment linguistically, her later poems become more expressive and structurally expansive. The long poem “Chāk” (Rip), which earned her an international literary award, exemplifies these important developments.²⁶Sipīdah Judayrī, Va ghayrah (Et cetera) (Tehran: Būtīmār, 1393/2014), 6–10.

“شاید فقط زندگی من بود
که این گونه گیج
بر چشم‌های قرمزتان نشست

ای روشنایی تن من بگذر!…
از بقیع تا خاوران را    با خود   ببرم بزنم به چاک!
آوازهای کوچک جان را  با خود     ببرم بزنم به چاک!
اسم شیک تهران را    با خود    ببرم بزنم به چاک!

ای روشنایی تن من بگذر!
من پشت هم جیغ می‌کشم
من پشت هم گوش‌های تو را
می گیرم       و جیغ می‌کشم

               دنیا گناه من است ای لکه‌های بی هدف!
              دنیا گناه من است ای خنده‌های بی شمار!
                                                  دنیا گناه من است و
                                                  من
                                                  جیغ…

Maybe it was only my life
That in such confusion
Settled on your red eyes
Oh, light of my body, let go!…
I take with me Baqīʿ and Khāvarān and flee!
I take with me the little dear songs and flee!
I take with me the fancy name of Tehran and flee!
Oh, light of my body, let go!…
I scream endlessly
I cover your ears constantly and scream…
The world is my sin, oh stains without purpose!
The world is my sin, oh countless laughs!
The world is my sin, and
I
Scream²⁷Judayrī, Va ghayrah , 6–7.

The poem opens on an intimate and somber note, establishing a mood of confusion and displacement that frames a broader meditation on exile. Notably, Judayrī use of the phrase bih chāk zadan (“to rip oneself away” or “to escape, to flee”) conveys not a dignified departure but a shameful escape. Although the speaker is forced to leave, she carries with her a complex burden, much of which is beyond her control. This burden includes her religious and political background, symbolized by two heavily charged cemeteries: Baqīʿ²⁸Jannatul Baqi (Garden of Baqi), also known as Baqi al-Gharqad is the main cemetery in Madinah, located to the southeast of Masjid al-Nabawi., associated with Islamic religious history, and Khāvarān²⁹Khavaran cemetery is an unmarked cemetery located in southeast Tehran. The graves in the cemetery do not have any markings., known for its association with political mass graves in post-revolutionary Iran.he also bears the socio-cultural identity of her hometown, Tehran. Amid this involuntary burden, however, the speaker preserves small yet vital traces of comfort, fragmentary memories embodied in short songs that accompany her. As the poem progresses, it begins to incorporate imagery tied to international sociopolitical events, further reflecting the poet’s evolving global consciousness:

ای مصر!
ای زنانه‌ترین روز!
صورتت را که لخت می‌کنی
هرگز
هرگز
چشم‌های مرا
سیاه نخواهد کرد!

O Egypt!
O most feminine of days!
When you bare your face
Never
Never
It will blacken my eyes!³⁰Judayrī, Va ghayrah, 8.

This marks the first instance in which Judayrī addresses a subject beyond her usual thematic concerns, expanding the scope of her poetic engagement. In a footnote, the poet states that these verses were written in solidarity with Aliaa Magda Elmahdy (b. 1991), the Egyptian activist and feminist advocate. The lines thus function as a gesture of transnational solidarity between two female activists who, though condemned by their respective conservative governments, locate a sense of mutual recognition within a broader, shared struggle. The poem concludes with an expression of the dark emotional landscape of exile and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

و آنچه از همه چیز باقی مانده‌ست
و آنچه از همه چیز باقی مانده‌ست
و آنچه از همه چیز باقی مانده‌ست

و آسمانی که می‌چرخد    می‌چرخد   تا سیاه بماند
مثل روزهایی که از سرم نمی‌گذرند
و آب‌هایی که با فشار   با فشار
بی‌آب‌ترین آب‌های جهان‌اند
مثل من
که زن نیستم اصلا
که رنگ نیستم اصلا
که جان نیستم اصلا
فقط صورتی
که می‌گذرد و می‌رود

And whatever remains of everything
And whatever remains of everything
And whatever remains of everything

And a sky that turns, turns, to stay black
Like the days that do not pass over my head
And the waters, with pressure
The least watered of all the waters of the world
Like me
Who am not a woman at all
Who am not a color at all
Who am not a soul at all
Only a face
That passes
And goes³¹Judayrī, Va ghayrah, 9–10.

In her subsequent collections—Va zīr-i pūst-i man pur az jaryānʹhā-yi khālī ast (And emptiness is flowing under my skin), Bā kamāl-i kandah shudan (With total uprooting),³²Sipīdah Judayrī, Bā kamāl-i kandah shudan [With total uprooting] (United States: Parvāz, 2017). and Kaf-i khiyābān, farāq-i sālī būd (The street’s longing for that year)—Judayrī includes poems dedicated to various activists and marginalized groups, including Mīr Husayn Mūsavī (b. 1320/1941), Siyyid Hasan Imāmī (1281/1902–1358/1979), Syrian children, and the people of Kobani. These diverse dedications reflect a significant broadening of her poetic vision. As an exiled poet who increasingly identifies as a global citizen, Judayrī is now positioned to bear witness to and empathize with a wider spectrum of human experiences and political struggles than was previously possible.

به کودکان سوریه:
این آواز تُرُش کرده‌است
غم، تُرُش کرده‌است
برکت برای زمین
بی کم و کاست
تُرُش کرده‌است
عبور
و مرگ‌های چشم دار شما
که می‌ریزد روی هم
بدن‌اش را دیدنی‌تر می‌کند…

To the children of Syria:
This song has soured
Sadness has soured
Blessing for the earth,
Utter and entire
Has soured
Passing
And your deaths
that That pile up
Makes their body more visible…³³Judayrī, Bā kamāl-i kandah shudan, 12.

Social Media and Poetic Style

Since 2017, Judayrī has primarily published her poetry on various online platforms, most notably through her Instagram account. This shift to engaging with a new and broader audience has influenced her poetic language, making it more accessible. However, a central event that, according to the poet, significantly altered her poetic style occurred on October 7, 2023. On this date, the conflict between Palestine and Israel escalated dramatically, triggering a wide range of global responses. As a committed communist and anti-colonialist, Judayrī began actively supporting the Palestinian cause through various means, including translating relevant articles, commemorating the deaths of Palestinian poets, organizing multicultural poetry readings both online and in person, and, most importantly, composing and sharing her own poems on Instagram.

It is important to note that Judayrī’s longstanding commitment to socialism deeply informs this stance. During this phase of her literary career, she aligns with a central tenet of the Language Poetry movement: the notion that writing is inherently a political act. As Charles Bernstein has argued, “writing becomes a political action in which the reader is not required merely to read or listen to the poem but is asked to participate with the poet/poem in bringing meaning to the community at large.” ³⁴Messerli, “Language” Poetries, 3. This new sociopolitical engagement and the shift in her publication medium have prompted her to adopt a more direct, expressive language, intentionally minimizing complex linguistic experimentation in order to reach and resonate with a wider audience.

برای آن نوزاد توی انکوباتور که کل خانواده‌اش را در بمباران غزه از دست داده و زنده است تا مقاومت کند:
می‌خواهم با مرگ خودم از دنیا نروم؛
آنچه از مرگ شنیده‌ام روشنی‌ست
اما پرهای مرگ را وقتی بر آسمان غزه دیدم
آیا می شود راجع به چیزی جز او صحبت کرد؟

بریده باد دست ابی لهب!

قلب برای همین است
که قاری فرسوده‌ی آرزوهای ما باشد
اما چه فریادی
از روح سیاه شرق شکفته است؟

Dedicated to the child in the incubator who lost his whole family in Gaza’s bombing, and lives on to resist:
I want not to leave this world with my death;
All I have ever heard of death is light
But when I saw the wings of death over Gaza’s sky
Can one speak of anything else?May the hands of Abū Lahab³⁵ʿAbd al-ʿUzzā ibn ʿAbd al-Muṭṭalib, better known as Abū Lahab was the Islamic prophet Muhammad‘s half paternal uncle. He was one of the Meccan Quraysh leaders who opposed the Prophet and was condemned in Surah Al-Masad of the Quran,111:1. be cut off!
The heart exists for this very reason:
To recite our worn-out desires
But what kind of cry
Has blossomed from the dark soul of East?³⁶Sipīdah Judayrī, “Ārizū” [Wish], October 27, 2023, https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy5eFSJOXpX/, accessed August 23, 2025.

Judayrī’s poetic journey—both in terms of style and content—traces a significant evolution: beginning as a young poet with a sophisticated and experimental use of language, she has gradually transformed into a poet in exile, whose voice now speaks with greater directness and urgency in response to a world marked by injustice and suffering. Over time, her language has become more restrained and accessible, while her thematic focus has shifted increasingly toward themes of resistance, peace, and love.

کلمه‌ای نیست
کلمه‌ای که بگویم:
روزت روشن ای شهید مبارزه‌ی جاری در من
ای آسمان به آسمان، بی غروب تر
ای شهادت هر صبح انقلابی به شعر
                                   به عشق
تو تمام نمی شوی
کوه‌ها اگر به هم برسند
من نیز در فلسطین کنار تو خواهم ایستاد تا آخرین نبرد
                                                  تا آخرین چریک
تا آن زمان که «باید باید باید
دیوانه وار» آتش گرفت
و دوست داشت

There is no word
No word I can speak:
Bright be your day, O martyr of the struggle alive within me
O sky upon sky, more without sunset
O witness of every revolutionary dawn in poetry and in love
You never end
If the mountains should meet
I too will stand beside you in Palestine until the last battle
Until the last guerrilla
Until the time that we “must, must, must”
Burn “madly”
And love³⁷Sipīdah Judayrī, “Kalamah-ʾi nīst” [There is no word], May 26, 2024, https://www.instagram.com/p/C7bTg12uU1P/, accessed August 23, 2025.

 

Femininity

Aside from the main themes, womanhood remains an ever-present subject in Judayrī’s work. As she has noted in multiple interviews, reading and engaging with feminist theory has been one of her primary intellectual pursuits. In her poetry, womanhood and femininity are represented in two distinct ways: first, by articulating women’s issues and concerns, and second, by embodying femininity through the female body, which serves as the central axis of a woman’s lived experience.

1. Expressing Women’s Issues and Concerns

In her early work, Judayrī primarily addresses women’s issues from the perspective of an Iranian woman, focusing on the pervasive influence of entrenched patriarchy and the everyday concerns and monotony of women’s lives.

من از «باید مُرد»ها      نَه،
از باید مَردها       هم    نَه،
می‌ترسم!

از تو می‌پرسم:
من تو را دوست داشتم؟!…
اِه؟!      تگرگ یا ستاره؟!…

او     ستاره بود     سه تا رِ:
رستم، رضا، رابین هود!…

I’m not afraid of the
“Must-die’s,” no,
Nor of the men’s rules, no!
I ask you:
Did I love you?!…
Eh?!     Hail or star?!…
He was a star, three R’s:
Rustam, Rizā, Robin Hood!…³⁸Judayrī, Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man, 42.

آب می‌رفت هر روز
از صبح تا شب
صدایم
در لباس‌هایم

My voice was shrinking
From morning till night

In my clothes³⁹Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 81.

In these two examples—among many others not discussed here—Judayrī challenges the everyday experiences of women and the hegemonic structures they navigate, often unconsciously. In this sense, she aligns with many contemporary female poets who aim to articulate and construct a more feminine and women-centered poetic world.

2. Woman’s Body as a Symbolized Feminine Territory

As Judayrī’s poetic style and ideas mature, femininity increasingly emerges in her work through symbolic representations of the female body. The term tan (body) is one of the most frequently occurring words in her poetry. This feminine presence conveys a range of meanings and associations. At times, the body is presented as a physiological female body, reflecting its natural processes and concerns, such as menstruation and pregnancy.

ما هوا می‌پیماییم
در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری.

و حرف تمام می‌شود        در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
و رنگ تمام می‌شود        در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
و تن تمام می‌شود        در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
و من
از زنان گیج و شاید هم ترسناک اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
گیج می‌شوم و شاید هم ترسناک:
زنان،
شکم شکم
با بچه‌های چرخنده
با بچه‌های هر سال
با بچه‌های حامله‌تر
هاه! زنان،
می‌چکند می‌چکند مرا تنگ      در بغل‌های مسافربری
زنان،
می‌زنند، می‌ریزند، می‌خمند
در من
و در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
و در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
و در اتوبوس‌های مسافربری
ما هوا می‌پیماییم

We traverse the air
In passenger buses
And words run out in the buses
And color runs out in the buses
And body runs out in the buses
And I
Among the women of the buses
Confused and also frightened
Become dizzy, and frightened myself
Women,
Belly after belly
With spinning children
With every-year children
With more pregnant children Haah! Women,
They drip me tighter into the arms of the buses
Women,
They strike, they spill, they bend
In me
And in the buses
And in the buses
And in the buses
We traverse the air⁴⁰Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 57–58.

لکه می‌تروای ای آسمان بر من      لکه می‌تراوی؛
من گوزن زخم تراش توام!
لخته می‌تراوی     در روزهای تک
و ماه
سیاه مایل به نژاد من

O sky! You drip your stains upon me
You drip your stains
I am your wound-carved deer!
You clot upon odd days
And the moon
black, leaning toward my race⁴¹Judayrī, Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, 94.

At other times, the body serves as a source of pleasure and a conduit for feminine eroticism:

من از تو بازم     ببین     من از تو بازم
و چکه‌های «تن» ام.
بنوش که هر شب دلی‌ست در لباس‌های بلند
                           در دهانه‌های تنم

I am open by you   look!   I am open of you
And I am drops of my body.
Drink, for every night, there is a heart in long dresses
At the entrances of my body⁴²Judayrī, Va zīr-i pūst-i man pur az jaryānʹhā-yi khālī ast, 6.

At times, the body becomes an embodiment of pain and suffering, with the source of this pain being either physical or psychological:

این دردهای بی‌وجود
از کمترین وجود هم برنمی‌آید!

رنگ از سرم پریده
شکل از وجود
تب از تن تنوری‌ام.

افسوس، گور ما شکفته‌تر از گور بود
افسوس، رنج ما شکفته‌تر از رنج

These worthless pains
Can’t be expected even from the smallest existence!
I have become pale
Without shape
The fever has left my burning body.
Pity, our grave was more open than the grave
Pity, our sorrow bloomed more than sorrow⁴³Judayrī, Va ghayrah, 33.

و مرگ، درست یک صحبت بیشتر است
از تنی به تنی شکستن،
شرایطی را به شرایطی نگفتن.
من غربال می‌شوم
سبک       سنگین
سبک    سنگین
دست به یکی شده
غربال غماهنگین

And death, it’s just one more conversation
Breaking from one body to another,
Not speaking of one situation to another.
I am being sifted
Light   heavy
Light   heavy
Hands come together
Sifted rhythmically in sorrow⁴⁴Judayrī, Kaf-i khiyābān, farāq-i sālī būd, 61.

At times, however, the body serves as the sole boundary separating the poet and her inner world from external reality. It becomes a protective barrier—a territory demarcating the self from the outside world. Through the body’s collisions with the external reality, the poet becomes aware of its contours, vulnerabilities, and the pain that emerges from such encounters:

صورت از شکاف بیرون زد
و پرسید:
کناره‌های تن به کجا می‌رسد؟

من نمی‌دانم زن به کجا می‌رسد؛
طرف‌های شب است آن طرف.

بگذار شیطان در پوستم نگنجد
من هوایی شدم هوایی!

و روح به جای تنم تصمیم می‌گیرد
که هوایی شوم هوایی!

و طرف‌های شب است آن طرف
این طرف از شکاف بیرون زد

The face came out of the gap
And asked:
Where do the body’s edges lead?
I don’t know where women end up;
That place is somewhere near nightfall .
Let the devil burst out of my skin I am in love!
And my soul decides in place of my body
That I am in love!
It’s around nightfall there
This side came out of the gap⁴⁵Judayrī, Va ghayrah, 24.

Femininity in Judayrī’s work manifests in multiple dimensions. It encompasses a spectrum that ranges from the physical and mundane realities of being a woman, with all its associated pleasures and pains, to more abstract and introspective considerations of womanhood. In this conceptual view, the female body is imagined as a terrain, a bounded space whose borders are in constant conflict and negotiation with the external world.

Receptions

Unfortunately, much of the literary criticism on Judayrī’s poetry remains inaccessible, as the archives of many key literary publications are currently unavailable online. However, with the poet’s assistance, I was able to obtain a selection of these articles to examine the critical reception of her work at the time of publication. This review follows a chronological structure and offers a brief overview of each piece, aiming to contextualize how Judayrī’s poetry was received by literary critics and fellow poets during various stages of her career.

In an article published in Iʿtimād newspaper on Shahrīvar 10, 1386/ September 1, 2007, Mihrī Jaʿfarī discusses Sūratī-yi māyil bih khūn-i man. Drawing on Roman Jakobson’s theoretical framework, Jaʿfarī emphasizes that the defining feature of Judayrī’s poems in this collection lies in the “automatization” of words to create a renewed and fresh perspective. ⁴⁶Mihrī Jaʿfarī, “Farātar az guzīnish-i kalamāt” [Beyond the selection of words], Magiran, https://www.magiran.com/article/1473207.

Shahrnūsh Pārsīpūr (b.1324/1945), in an essay published on Rādiyū Zamānah on Shahrīvar 29, 1387/September 19, 2008, provides a brief introduction to Judayrī, describing her as a promising young poet. Pārsipūr notes Judayrī’s clear desire to pursue an independent and innovative poetic path.⁴⁷Shahrnūsh Pārsīpūr, “Nustālji-yi kūdakī dar shiʿr′hā-yi Judayrī” [Childhood nostalgia in Judayrī’s poetry], Rādiyū Zamānah (Amsterdam), no. 100, Shahrīvar 29, 1387/September 19, 2008.

Āzādah Davāchī offers a sociopolitical reading of a poem from Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast, employing the theoretical frameworks of Michel Foucault and Mary Douglas. Davāchī argues that the representation of the feminine body in the poem operates on two levels: as a challenge to patriarchal norms and as a critique of normative constructions of female embodiment.⁴⁸Āzādah Davāchī, “Khānish-i shiʿrī az Sipīdah Judayrī” [Poetic reading of Sipīdah Judayrī], n.d. http://leilasadeghi.com/others-works/others-critic-works/516-davachi-4. Similarly, Ghazal Murādī, in an essay also focusing on this collection, discusses the narrative quality present even in Judayrī’s shorter poems. She argues that these poems demand multiple readings in order to reveal their artistic depth.⁴⁹Ghazal Murādī “Barrasī-yi ʿanāsur-i rivāyī dar shiʿr-i “Dukhtar-i khūbī kih shāʿir ast,” asar-i Sipīdeh Jadayrī”
[Narrative elements in the poem “The good girl who is a poet” by Sipīdah Jadayrī], Muassasah-ʾi khānah-ʾi dāstān-i Chūk, Tīr 30, 1398/July 21, 2019, https://www.khanehdastan.ir/article-database/45345-4.html.

The remaining available essays predominantly address Va ghayrah, the last collection that Judayrī published in Iran. This collection was banned shortly after publication, following public controversy over the poet’s perceived support of homosexuality, stemming from her translation of the graphic novel Le bleu est une couleur chaude. The ban contributed to the collection’s heightened visibility and critical engagement.

In her analysis, Davāchī explores the presence of oppositional literature within the collection. She argues that the collection’s formal and linguistic strategies constitute acts of resistance against hegemonic ideologies and political censorship.⁵⁰Āzādah Davāchī, “Tiknīkʹhā-yi adabiyāt-i muqāvimat dar majmūʿah-yi shiʿrī-yi Va ghayrah surūdah-yi Sipīdah Jadayrī” [The techniques of resistance literature in the poetry collection Va ghayrah composed by Sipīdah Jadayrī], Shahrgon, Day 25, 1393/January 31, 2015, https://shahrgon.com/2015/44208/.

Pigāh Ahmadī reviews the Va ghayrah collection and interprets the poems, and the title itself, as emblematic of voices marginalized or silenced by dominant discourse.⁵¹Pigāh Ahmadī, “Nigāhī bih majmūʿah-ʾi shiʿrī-yi Va ghayrah” [A look at the poetry collection of Va ghayrah], ʿAsr-i naw, Farvardin 2, 1394/March 22, 2015, http://www.asre-nou.net/php/view.php?objnr=34153. For Ahmadī, the poems amplify perspectives that have been excluded from the literary and sociopolitical mainstream. Muhsin Husaynī offers a psychological reading of the collection, emphasizing the theme of Thanatos (the death drive) and its recurring presence throughout the poems.⁵²Muhsin Husaynī, “Darbārah-ʾi Va ghayrah, Sipīdeh Jadayrī” [About Va ghayrah, Sipīdeh Jadayrī], n.d. http://leilasadeghi.com/others-works/others-critic-works/691-hosseini.

Muhammad Āzarm presents a favorable review, highlighting the conceptual and narrative coherence of the work. He contends that Judayrī’s poems form a unified and intentional poetic vision.⁵³Muhammad Āzarm, “Nūr dar tamām-i tarīnʹhā” [Light in all superlatives], Shahrgon, Tīr 12/1394/July 3, 2015, https://shahrgon.com/2015/46969/.

Farzānah Qavvāmī (b. 1347/1968), in an essay published on Murdād 22, 1393/August 13, 2014, via the poet’s Facebook page, praises Judayrī’s unique poetic perspective and her ability to perceive and foreground details often overlooked by others. Qavvāmī argues that Judayrī’s poetry transcends mere language play, constructing a deeply personal and distinctive poetic world.⁵⁴Farzānah Ghavvāmī, “Shāʿirī chishm va gūsh-i jahān-i khud” [A poet who is the eyes and ears of her own world], Sipīdah Judayrī’s Facebook page, Murdād 22, 1393/August 13, 2014.

As these critical assessments suggest, Judayrī has successfully established herself as a significant voice among modern Iranian poets. Her post-exilic poetry has garnered increasing attention, likely due to the maturation of her poetic form and conceptual depth, which together have shaped a distinctive literary voice rooted in the experience of exile.

Conclusion

The period known in modern Persian literature as the Seventies (1370s/1990s) marks a critical juncture in the development of modern Persian poetry. This era was characterized by rapid sociopolitical transformations and a significant influx of newly translated theoretical works into Persian, which introduced a wave of fresh ideas to a new generation of poets and writers eager to differentiate their work from that of previous decades. The increased presence of female poets during this time also contributed to the diversification of literary voices and perspectives.

Judayrī’s unique position—having lived both inside and outside Iran—has endowed her poetry with a rich array of experiences and perspectives. She began her literary career as an Iranian woman poet, but over time, she evolved into a global poetic voice, engaging with broader human concerns and forging deeper connections beyond national boundaries. Her poetic style and thematic focus, particularly on love, homeland, and womanhood, have undergone significant transformation throughout this journey. While her earlier work was heavily language-centered, her later poetry reflects a more balanced interplay between linguistic experimentation and thematic substance, shaped increasingly by her ideological commitments. Furthermore, her conception of womanhood matured into a symbolic construct, often embodied in the figure of the female body as a site of both personal and political significance.

 

Awards

Dreams of an Amphibious Girl: Finalist nominee for the Kārnāme Prize

Chāk: Winner of the 2015 Jovellanos International Poetry Prize in Spain

A Piece of Flesh: Selected poems for the Dangerous Women Project, Institute for Advanced Studies in the Humanities, the University of Edinburgh, April 2016.