The Life of a Feminist Poet and Artist

I was so grateful to PhD students Zachary Milko and Kate Freeman, for inviting me to do a workshop at their university - Case Western Reserve Uni. on Wednesday April 9th 2025.

I recited some of my feminist poems, and feminist poems by poets who inspire me like Kamala Das, Forugh Farrokhzad, and Lucille Clifton. I also did a presentation about my feminist art, showing images of my art series: Women Working, Women Reading, "Look Closer", "God of Guns", and "For the Love of Guns."

 

                                                                                    

                                                                                    

Forough Farrokhzad 'Another Birth' - Recorded Poem

Forough Farrokhzad (1935 - 1967) is an Iranian poet I have always admired, her poetry is powerful, direct, honest and often confessional. I read her work translated in English, 'Another Birth' is a beautiful and passionate poem, I have recorded it in my voice https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5s6WE1MTH_I

I believe in keeping inspirational poetesses alive, as sadly, it seems Farrokhzad is gradually fading away, although I hope I'm wrong. This magnificent lady died young (early thirties), she lived a harsh life; disowned by her family, brutally fought in court by her ex-husband, deprived from her only child, rejected by society, dismissed by publishers and the literary seen flourishing in Iran during that period due to patriarchy and conservatism. To me Farrokhzad is a heroine and an inspiration, if you'd like to read more about her, see my post http://fatimaalmatar.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/wind-up-doll-forugh-farrokhzad-pushing.html

فاروغ فاروغزاد

نبذة عن الشاعرة الفارسية "فاروغ فاروغزاد" و ترجمة لبعض أعمالها الأدبية.

An English version of my essay on Persian poet Forugh Farrokhzad can be found in an earlier blogging dated September 5th 2011  

http://fatimaalmatar.blogspot.com/2011/09/wind-up-doll-forugh-farrokhzad-pushing.html

وُلدتْ "فاروغ" في طهران عام 1935 لأسرة محافظة ولأبوين صارمين, و ترتيبها الثالث من بين إخوتها السبعة, نشأتْ في منزل تُطبَّق فيه القوانين بحدة وحزم؛ فوالدها -الجنرال في الجيش- كان يفرِّق تفرقة واضحة بين أولاده الذكور والإناث, فللذكور الاستمرار في التعليم ودخول الجامعة, أما الإناث فلهن تعلم القراءة والكتابة في البيت وتعلّم فنون التطريز وحسن إدارة المنزل، ولا مصير لهن سوى الزواج والإنجاب.

بدأ شغف "فاروغ" بالشعر منذ اطلاعها وقراءتها لحافظ ورومي؛ فكان ذلك مصدر إلهامٍ مهم لكتاباتها وأفكارها, إلاّ أنها لم تجرؤ على نشر خواطرها لما كان يسود المجتمع الإيراني من تقييد شديد لأفكار المرأة، وبسبب نظرة المجتمع الدونية للمرأة التي تجرؤ على التعبير عن آرائها بحرية، لا سيما التي تكتب في الغزل والتجارب العاطفية.

ظل هاجس الكتابة يلاحق "فاروغ" بعد تزويجها في سن السادسة عشر من قريبها الذي يكبرها بِخمسة عشر عاماً، ولم يفارقها هذا الهاجس بعد أن أنجبت منه طفلها الوحيد "كَمَيار".

في هذه الخاطرة تصف "فاروغزاد" حنينها لكتابة الشعر الذي يمنعها منه خوفها من خسارة بيتها و طفلها الصغير.

الأسيرة

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

أريدُكَ و أعرفُ أنّني لنْ أستطيعَ يوماً أنْ أضمّكَ إليّ كما أريد

أنتَ السماءُ الزرقاءُ الصّافية

و أنا في زاويةِ هذا القفصِ عصفورٌ مسجون

من وراءِ القضبانِ السوداءِ الباردة

أحدّقُ بكَ بعيونٍ ملؤها حزنٌ وَ شفقة

أنتظرُ يداً تمتدُ إليّ لأفردَ جناحيَّ باتجاهك

يهيأُ لي أنّني في لحظةِ طيش

أستطيعُ أنْ أطيرَ من هذا القفصِ الأكم

أضحكُ في وجهِ الرّجلِ الذي حكمَ عليّ بالسجن

و أعيشُ حياةً جديدةً إلى جانبك

هذه هي هواجسي و أنا أعرفُ حقَّ المعرفة

أنّه لا مفرَّ من هذا السجن

و إنْ أطلقني سجاّني

لم يتبقَ لي نفسٌ من رياحٍ تحملُني على متنِها

من وراءِ القضبان

تبتسمُ لي عينا طفل

عندما أغني, يقرّبُ شفتيه إليّ بقبلة

آآه أيتها السماء

إن أردتُ أن أحلّق عن هذا السجن الأبكم يوماً

ماذا أقولُ لعينيّ هذا الطفلِ المبلّلةِ الدامعة

تجاهليني أيتُها السماءُ فأنا لستُ سِوى عصفورٍ مسجون

أنا شمعةٌ تضيءُ الدمارَ باحتراقِ فؤادِها

سأختارُ الظلامَ وَ السكوتَ وَ القنوط

على ألّا أهدمَ عشاً

نشرت "فاروغ" مجموعتها الشعرية الأولى "الأسيرة" عام 1955, ولقت المجموعة ردود أفعال سلبية ونقدا حادا بسبب جرأة المادة المكتوبة وصراحة الكلمات والعبارات التي عبرت فيها "فاروغ" عن مغامراتها العاطفية

الخطيئة

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

أخطأتُ و ذقتُ نشوةَ الخطيئة

في عناقٍ متوهجٍ ساخن

بين ذراعين شديدي الانتقام

ذراعين عنيفي الاحتراق..

لم يكن زواج "فاروغ" سعيداً و قد أدى حديث الناس وهمساتهم تجاه جرأتها وتفاخرها بالعار بعد نشرها لمجوعتها الأولى "الأسيرة" إلى إضعاف زواجها أكثر فأكثر حتى انتهى بالطلاق, واستطاع زوجها إثبات عدم صلاحية "فاروغ" لحضانة ابنهما الوحيد "كَمَيار", فخسرت حضانة ابنها, وتحت وطئة فراق وحيدها وتعنيف أهلها ولومهم وتأنيبهم لها انكسرت "فاروغ"، وعانت الوِحدة والاضطهاد وعدم القبول.. واستدعت حالتها النفسية البائسة اللجوء لمصحة التأهيل النفسي.  

ولادة جديدة

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

أنا كلُّ كياني أغنيةٌ مظلمة

ترفعُكَ و تنهضُ بكَ إلى فجرٍ مِنْ ربيعٍ أبديّ

و في هذهِ الأغنيةِ أتنهَّـدُ و تتنهدُ أنت

و فيْ هذهِ الأُغنيةِ أستمدُّكَ من الشجرِ و النارِ و الماء

الحياةُ هيَ رُبما

الطريقُ الطويلُ الذي تسلكُهُ في كلِّ صباحٍ سيدةٌ تحملُ سلّة

الحياةُ هيَ رُبما

الحبلُ الذي يشْنقُ رجلٌ بهِ نفسَهُ منْ جذعِ شَجرة

الحياةُ هيّ رُبما

طفلٌ يعودُ منْ المدرسة

الحياةُ هيَ رُبما

إشعالُ سيجارةٍ في اللحظاتِ السامةِ بينَ مضاجَعتين

أو هيَ

النظرةُ الفارغةُ مِنْ أحدِ المارّةِ لأحدِ الغُرباءِ حينَ

 يرفعُ لهُ قبعتَهُ ويُلقي عليهِ التحية 

الحياةُ هيَ رُبما

تلكَ اللحظةُ المغلقةُ التي فيها

تدمّر نظرتي ذاتها في سوادِ عينيك

و في هذا الشعور

الذي سأغرِسُه في ظلالِ القمرِ و إدراكِ الليل

وفي غرفةٍ بحجمِ الوِحدة

قلبي

الذي هوَ بحجمِ الحب

ينظرُ إلى أبسطِ أعذارِ السعادة

ينظرُ إلى جمالِ موتِ الأزهارِ وهيَ في إنائها

ينظرُ إلى الشجيرةِ التي غرستها في حديقتِنا

و أغنيةِ عصفورِ الكناري الذي يغنّي بحجمِ النافذة

آآه .. هذهِ أقداري.. هذهِ أقداري..

أقداري هيَ سماءٌ شاسعةٌ تُسرَقُ مني بمجردِ أنْ أُسدِلَ الستار

أقداري هيَ النزولُ دائماً مِنْ أعلى السلالِم

استرجاعُ شيءٍ ما أثناءَ الانقضاءِ وَ الحنين

أقداري هيَ نزهةٌ حزينةٌ في حديقةِ الذكريات

وَ الموتُ في صوتٍ يقولُ لي: "كمْ أُحبُّ يديك"

أعْرِفُ جنيّةً صغيرةً تعيسة

تَحيا في البحر

وَ تضربُ بقلبِها أنعمَ ألحانِ الناي وَ أجملَها

جنيّةً صغيرةً تعيسة

تموتُ بقبلةٍ كلَّ ليلة

وَ تحيا بقبلةٍ كلَّ نهار.

في رسالة من "فاروغزاد" لأختها بعد طلاقها و خسارة حضانة صغيرها:

"كلُّ عذابي الذهني مستمدٌ مِنْ وِحْدتي

عندما أكونُ وحيدةً ليسَ هناكَ مَنْ يغرسُ فيَّ أيَّ فكرةٍ إيجابيةٍ صحيّة

يداي وَ رجلاي خوار القوى وَ السببُ مخيلتي السوداء

وَ أرى بوضوحٍ أنّني لمْ أعدْ أستطيعُ أنْ أقاومَ الفكرةَ أنني لم أعدْ أقوى على هذهِ الحياة.. "

وجهٌ لوجهٍ مع الرب

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

مِنْ ضوءِ عيني اسرق رغبتي للجوءِ لآخر

وَ علّمْ عينيَّ أنْ تستحيَ مِنْ الذهابِ لبريقِ عيونٍ أُخرى

يا ربْ يا ربْ

أظهرْ وجهَكَ لي واقطفْ من قلبي نشوةَ الخطيئةِ وَ حبَّ الذات

لا تغفرْ تفاهةَ عبدتِك الثائرةِ وَ زلاتِها في اللجوءِ لغيرك

اسمعْ صيحاتي المملوءةِ بالحاجة

يا أيها الإلهُ العارفُ المقتدر

 في رسالة من "فاروغزاد" لوالدها الذي كان طوال حياتها يعاملها بجمود وقسوة، وقد ازدادت الفجوة العاطفية والحسية بينهما بعد طلاقها وإصرارها على عدم الرجوع للعيش في بيت والدها. 

 "أقسى آلامي هي أنكَ لمْ تحاولْ مرّةً التعرّفَ عليّ، وأنك لم ترغبْ يوماً بالتعرف علي أوالتقرّب مني.. أذكرُ عندما كنتُ صغيرةً, كنتُ أقرأُ كتبَ الفلسفة, كنتَ ترددُ عليَّ مراراً وتكراراً بأنني غبيةٌ وساذجةٌ وأنني قد سمّمتُ عقلي بقراءةِ هذه المجلات الأدبية.. و أنتَ لا تعلمُ أنَّ كلماتِك كانتْ تُحطّمُني إلى أجزاءٍ صغيرةٍ داخلَ نفسي.."

أيتها النجوم

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

نعم أنا هي

مَنْ في سكونِ الليلِ تقطّعُ رسائلَ الحب

لقدْ رَحل .. و شغفي بهِ لنْ يرحل

أيتها النجوم

ماذا حصلَ كي لا يرغبُ بي ؟!

هدية

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

أنا أنادي مِنْ جوفِ الليل

مِنْ جوفِ الظلامِ أنادي

إنْ أتيتَ إلى منزلي يا صديق

أحضرْ معكَ سراجًا وَ نافذة

كي أستطيعَ النظرَ إلى السعداءِ في الطرقات.

في رسالة تَردُّ بها "فاروغزاد" على نقّادها الذين وصفوا كتاباتها بأنها نسوية وعاطفية وشخصية وغير راقية:

"إنْ كنتم تنتقدونَ أشعاري بوصفِكم لها أنّها أنثويةٌ فهذا أمرٌ طبيعي جداً, فأنا في النهايةِ والحمدُ للهِ امرأة. ولكنْ من الناحيةِ الأدبيةِ وَ الفنيةِ فالجنسُ لا يلعبُ دوراً, بل سأذهبُ إلى أبعدِ من ذلك و أقولُ: إنَّ انتقادَك لصوتي و لشِعْري بأنه مبالغٌ بالأنوثة فهذا ليس نقداً شريفاً, لأنه من الطبيعي بسببِ تكوينِ المرأةِ الجسدي والنفسي ونزعاتِها الروحيةِ أنْ تسلط الضوء على بعض الأمور التي لا يكترث لها الرجل.."

تظل "فاروغ فاروغزاد" محط حديث  المجتمع الإيراني المحافظ حتى بعد نشرها لمجموعتها الشعرية الثانية والثالثة، فتتراوح آراء النقاد بين من يصفها بالعاهر ومن يصفها بالنابغة.

أكملت "فاروغزاد" دراستها في الفن في أوربا وتخصصت في الإخراج السينمائي والتقت بالمخرج "إبراهيم غوليستان" الذي ساعدها في إخراج فيلمها الوثائقي الأول والوحيد "البيت الأسود"، والذي حاز عدة جوائز تقديرية. أحبت "فاروغزاد" "غوليستان" حباً شديداً ووصفته بالرجل الوحيد الذي يحبها ويقبل بها كما هي, لكن حبها لغوليستان المتزوج ساهم في تعزيز الآراء والأصوات التي وصفتها بالانحطاط و انحلالية الخلق.

توفيت "فاروغزاد" عام 1967، عن عمر يناهز الثانية والثلاثين بحادث مروري؛ بعد أن حاولت أن تتحاشى الاصطدام بباص مدرسة؛ مما أدى إلى انحرافها واصطدامها بجدار إسمنتي.

وكان الحادث بعد فترة وجيزة من نشرها لآخر مجموعاتها الشعرية "الجدار".

اغفرْ لها

(فاروغ فاروغزاد)

اغفرْ لها

فهيَ أحياناً تنسى

أنها تشبهُ إلى حدٍ مؤلمٍ المياهَ الراكدة

أنّها تشبهُ الحفرةَ الفارغة

مغفلة, تتخيلُ أنه يحقُ لها أنْ تكون

اغفرْ غضبَ و انفعالَ هذهِ الصورةِ الجامدةِ المحنّطة

هيَ التي فيْ عينيها يذوبُ حنينُها للحركةِ والنمو

اغفرْ لهذهِ المرأة

التي يُغسلُ كفنَها بشعاعِ  قمرٍ أحمر.

Here's to two Marvelous poets

February marks the death of two of my favourite poets, two ladies who have been an important source of inspiration for me and my writing.

 Sylvia Plath who felt she lived her life under a bell jar. And Forough Farrokhzad who called herself 

the captive" and her last poetry collection was entitled "the wall

Both women bound by their limitations, although there is nothing limited about the inspiration their poetic and literary legacy gives to women writers. Coming from completely opposite backgrounds; Farrokhzad, from a strict Muslim Iranian society which portrayed her as a whore and as "a woman whose only talent is to say and write what other pious women would not dare to", with her poetry banned from publication for many years after the Islamic revolution (See my essay on Farrokhzad, blog post dated Sept. 5^th 2011)  http://fatimaalmatar.blogspot.com/2011/09/wind-up-doll-forugh-farrokhzad-pushing.html

to Sylvia Plath's American/British life style which provided her with much opportunity to become one of the most important writers of the 20^th century. Nevertheless, both women suffered deeply from broken marriages, wrestled their whole life with depression, frustrated by distant dysfunctional families, struggled with the constraints of woman hood, society, and poetic ambition, swinging constantly between 

extraordinary heights of intelligence and the most desperate level of despair.

With both their fathers' playing an important role in their poetic genius; Plath losing hers at a very young and critical age and living the rest of her life distraught with idea of love and belonging. And Farroukhzad; being disowned by hers in her twenties after her divorce and losing custody of her only child after proven an unfit mother before the Iranian courts, due to here unorthodox lifestyle of publically living with and engaging in relationships with various men outside wedlock.

Their feelings towards their fathers becoming the suppressing and the breathing space of their writing and as a result deeply affecting their love life and their attachment to men.      

Although Plath committed suicide at only 30, and Farrokhzad died in a car crash at 32, both incredibly gifted short lives ended in February (Plath on Feb. 11^th  and Farroukhzad on Feb. 13^th ). I outlive both women today and find myself sharing many of their misfortunes; the exhausting limitation of writing poetry, the impossibility of satisfaction, the broken marriage, the anger that comes with the social stigma of divorce, the pain of distant empathic parents, the disconnections with siblings, the disappointment with love, the loneliness of a single mother, and the never really knowing where to fit, thus I celebrate this month, here's to the two most brave, most marvelous lady poets I know.

To Plath and Farrokhzad

I understand what it is like for you

the opening and closing of the self

the coming and receding of the tides

the lowering and heightening of the voice

a soul stirring within you

wanting out then lazily sleeping in

wrestling with the idea of this heaven and this hell

there is almost no difference between wanting everything and wanting nothing at all, but nobody believes you.

I understand what it is like for you

sometimes  love

sometimes a sky of happiness can be bigger than the universe

sometimes the mere thought of living drowns you with disgust

I know

I know the thin glass door between you and that marvelous sunny day outside

And I know the will to never open it.

The Wind-Up Doll Forugh Farrokhzad: Pushing the Boundaries of Iranian Poetry

Literature in Iran has long possessed a predominantly masculine character. Conspicuously absent from it has been the presence of women as writers or critics, as makers of literary tradition. Until recently, little has been heard of women writers, painters, musicians, architects, actors, potters, calligraphers. The achievements of those women, who against all odds, managed to nurture their creative talents has remained for the most part unrecognized, invisible[1]. For centuries, the written literary potential of Iranian women has been repressed and muffled, easy access to the power, privilege, and arena of the written word was for long denied to them[2].

In Iran, a society where walls and veils have been customary and censored communication the order of the day, a new tradition of women’s poetry came into being toward the middle of the present century; a tradition of women intensely involved in self-reflection and self-revelation, not sheltered or restrained by the anonymity or opacity of the veil; a tradition of women who not only revealed themselves but also unveiled men in their writings.[3]The list includes, among others, Zand-Dokht Shirazi (1911-1925), Jaleh Esfahani (1920-2007), Simin Behbahani (1927), Mahin Sekandari (1940) and Forugh Farrokhzad (1936-1967).

These women wrote about private ideas, feelings and facts. They strove to reconcile the emotional, sensual, and social aspects of a female self. With bodies unveiled and pen in hand, they led the reader behind walls and veils to the domains of the private. However, this article’s main interest is Iran’s most significant female poet of the twentieth century Forugh Farroukhzad, as revolutionary as Russia’s Akhmatova and Tsvetaeva, and American Plath and Sexton, she wrote with a sensuality and burgeoning political consciousness that pressed against the boundaries of what could be expressed by a woman in 1950s and 1960s Iran. But Farroukhzad paid a very high price for her art; shouldering the disapproval of society and her family, losing custody of her only son after her divorce, and being sent to a mental institution.[4]

 I have sinned a rapturous sin

in warm enflamed embrace.

Sinned in a pair of vindictive arms,

Arms violent and ablaze.... [5]

Farrokhzad’s bold and unconventional poetry which are often a representation of women’s subjectivity and sexuality have elevated her to the level of a cultural icon in modern Iran. The shock of Farrokhzad’s poetry is the shock of purity; the purity of ice water, the purity of her relentless intensity. Although the dominant themes of her poetry are sexual love and despair, there is always an awareness of how the normal world tries to stifle emotion with the noose of its own deadness[6].

My whole being is a dark chant
which will carry you
perpetuating you
to the dawn of eternal growths and blossoming
in this chant I sighed you sighed
in this chant
I grafted you to the tree to the water to the fire.

Life is perhaps
a long street through which a woman holding
a basket passes everyday

Life is perhaps
a rope with which a man hangs himself from a branch
life is perhaps a child returning home from school.

Life is perhaps lighting up a cigarette
in the narcotic repose between two love-makings
or the absent gaze of a passerby
who takes off his hat to another passerby
with a meaningless smile and a good morning .

Life is perhaps that enclosed moment
when my gaze destroys itself in the pupil of your eyes[7].

The third of seven children and a very mischievous little girl Forugh would not be bound and was often made bidden by her dictatorial mother and her military strict father who was quick to draw his belt. Growing up, Forugh finds refuge in her books, studies painting and dress making but remain faithful to her true love for poetry through her reading of Hafiz and Rumi. At the age of sixteen she marries a relative, fifteen years her senior, with her husband’s encouragement and support Forugh publishes her first poems in magazines and meets frequently with various editors. Her first collection Asir (Captive) gets published in 1955. Historically, the beauty of women was the subject of Iranian poetry, but now Forugh has made men her poetic subjects, her objects of love, passion and desire. By this time her poems are sought and published because of their intimacy and frankness about sexual encounters and less to do with her poetic accomplishments[8].

Let me lose myself in you

till no one can find my trace

let your dewy sighs fevered soul

waft over the body of my songs[9].

Rumours of affairs circulate and soon her marriage ends, resulting in the loss of the custody of her son. The stress of divorce, separation from her son, society’s criticism and her family’s rejection is too much for her to endure and she experiences a nervous breakdown.

“All my mental anguish is due to loneliness. When I’m alone, there is no one to inject into me good and healthy thoughts. My arms and legs get tied up with my own bleak imaginings and then I see that I can no longer have the power to resist, that I’m done with this life...”[10]

After her divorce, Forugh goes back to her parents’ home, under her father’s resentful watchful eyes they often clashed. Her relationship with her mother was also difficult, their constant quarrelling forces her to move out and live in a small rented room.

“My greatest pain is that you never got to know me and never wanted to know me, I remember when I used to read philosophy books back at home, you would tell me that I was a stupid girl whose mind has been poisoned by reading journals, I would then fall into pieces inside myself...”[11]

Farroughzad’s life style increasingly becomes the subject of gossip, scandal and fantasizing as she publically enters into relationships with numerous men. In 1958 she meets the handsome, well educated, producer Ebrahim Golestan who was also married, they have a passionate affair and Forugh is convinced she has finally met her match. Golestan doesn’t only understand her and accept her for what she is and who she is striving to become but also helps her financially to study film production and offers her a job in his own film studios[12]. Their open affair is met with further scandal and the intellectual community which Forugh so longingly wants to fit into views her affair with a married man as morally reprehensible[13].

Even more, oh yes,

one can remain silent even more.

Inside eternal hours

one can fix lifeless eyes

on the smoke of a cigarette

on a cup’s form

the carpet’s faded flowers,

One can remain fixed in one place, here

beside this curtain... but deaf, but blind.

With an alien voice, utterly false,

one can cry out: I love!

in the oppressive arms of a man

one can be a robust, beautiful female

skin like leather table cloth...[14]

Even after publishing her second collection The Wall and her third collection Rebellion she is still addressed with the title of poetess, a title which denies her the seriousness of a true poet[15].

“If my poems, as you say, have an aspect of femininity, it is of course quite natural. After all, fortunately I am a woman. But if you speak of artistic merits, I think gender cannot play a role. In fact to even voice such a suggestion is unethical. It is natural that a woman, because of her physical, emotional and spiritual inclination, may give certain issues greater attention, issues men may not normally address...”[16]

If I were God, I'd call on the angels one night

to release the round sun into the darkness' s furnace,

angrily command the world garden servants

to prune the yellow leaf moon from the night's branch.

If I were God, I'd call on the angels one night

to boil the water of eternal life in Hell's cauldron,

and with a burning torch chase out the virtuous herd

that grazes in the green pastures of an unchaste heaven.

Tired of being a prude, I'd seek Satan's bed at midnight

and find refuge in the declivity of breaking laws.

I'd happily exchange the golden crown of divinity

for the dark, aching embrace of a sin...[17]

In 1964, Farrokhzad publishes her fourth collection Reborn, this collection is immediately hailed as a major work, her poems are widely read, discussed and studied, finally she is viewed as a poet. In 1967 on her way back home from work she swerves the jeep she is driving to miss an oncoming school bus, she is thrown out of her car and her head hits the cement gutter, she dies instantly at the age of 32. In the falling snow, her funeral was attended by literary and artistic communities and hundreds of people. She was buried under the snow[18].

Let us believe in the down of the cold season.

Let us believe in the ruin of imaginary gardens,

In idle inverted scythes

In confined seeds

Look how it snows

Perhaps the truth was those two young hands

Those hands

Buried beneath snow

And in the coming year

When spring mates with sky behind the window

Fountains of green saplings will erupt

Saplings that bloom, beloved, my trusted friend

Let us believe in the dawn of the cold season...[19]

After the 1979 revolution in Iran, the new Islamic government officially banned Farroukhzad’s poems and her publisher is ordered to stop printing her books, he refuses and is subsequently jailed and his publishing house burned down[20].

Forgive her.

Sometimes she forgets

She is painfully the same

As stagnant water,

Hollow ditches,

Foolishly imagines

She has the right to exist.

Forgive

A photo portrait’s listless rage,

Whose longing for movement

Melts in her paper eyes

Forgive

this woman whose casket is washed over

by a flowing red moon...[21]

---

[1] Milani, F. (1992), Veils and Words.

[2] Groningen, H. (1983), Images of women in Greek Historiography on Persia.

[3] Parispur, S. (1976), The Dog and the Long Winter.

[4] Ostriker, A, (2007), Sin: Selected Poems of Forugh Farrokhzad.

[5] From Farrokhzad’s poem Sin, 1955.

[6] Brookshaw, D. & Rahimieh, N. (2010), Forugh Farrokhzad, Poet of Modern Iran, Iconic Woman and Faminine Pioneer of New Persian Poetry.

[7] From Farrokhzad’s poem Rebirth, 1964.

[8] See Ostriker (note 4 supra).

[9] From Farrokhzad’s poem On Loving, 1955.

[10] Farrokhzad in a letter to her ex-husband, in Esma’ili and Sedarat, Immortal Forugh Farroukhzad, 1972.

[11] In a letter written in 1957 to her colonel father, Farrokhzad shows the distance and amount of conflict between them. See Brookshaw & Rehimieh (note 6 supra)

[12] Farrokhzad was also known for producing the ground breaking 1962 documentary The House is Balck, shot in a leper colony in north-western Iran.

[13] See Brookshaw & Rahimieh (note 6 supra)

[14] From Farrokhzad’s poem Wind-Up Doll, 1964.

[15] See Ostriker (note 4 supra).

[16] A quote from Iranj Gorgin’s interview with Farrokhzad, 1964, See Milani (note 1 supra).

[17] From Farrokhzad’s poem Rebellious God, 1958.

[18] See Ostriker (note 4 supra).

[19] From Farrokhzad’s poem Let Us Believe in the Dawn of the Cold Season, 1967.

[20] See Ostriker (note 4 supra)

[21] From Farrokhzad’s poem Forgive Her, 1964.