Poems by Fatemeh Rezanejad (Iran)

Fatemeh (Mahnaz) Rezanejad, a poet and writer from Gilan, known as the "Poetess of Love," was born in the city of Rasht in Iran  and is an active figure in the contemporary poetry scene of Gilan province. Drawing on the linguistic and cultural capacities of her native Gilan, she creates literary works in both Persian and Gilaki, and has strived to establish a dynamic and meaningful connection between local literature and the contemporary currents of Iranian poetry.

In her works, Rezanejad adopts a human-centered, peace-oriented, and emotion-driven approach, reflecting themes of love, identity, local life, and the social concerns of modern humanity in a soft, imaginative, and musical language. Her poetic world is built on feeling, empathy, and a cross-cultural perspective, in which the nature of the north, memory, expectation, and human connections hold a prominent and identity-shaping presence.

To date, two independent collections by this poet have been published: the Persian poetry collection "Goli dar Gisu" (A Flower in the Tresses) and the Gilaki poetry collection "She'r-e Arsu" (Poems of Arsu), both printed by local publishers in Gilan province. In addition, her Persian and Gilaki poems are regularly published in print journals and electronic media of Gilan, as well as in other cultural outlets across the country.

Some of Fatemeh Rezanejad's poems have been translated and published internationally through the efforts and pens of well-known literary figures, including Hamed Habib, Egyptian poet and translator; Professor Hasanin Aqeb, a university professor in India; and Saleh Abadollah Sa'dollahovich (Abadollah Saleh) from Tajikistan, who have played a significant role in introducing her poetry to audiences beyond borders.

In 2024, she received a Certificate of Achievement from the 3rd African-Asian Literary Conference under the title "Safe World," and in 2025, she became a member of the World Union of Writers (Ettehad al-Alam).

Also in 2025, the Certificate of Cultural Ambassador (Peace) was awarded to Fatemeh Rezanejad by the International Foundation for Creativity and Humanity (IFCH) in the Kingdom of Morocco. This foundation operates under the presidency of Aziz Montasser, a renowned Moroccan poet and writer.

Among her other academic and cultural honors is the prestigious "Heir to the Tlatlolulco Heritage" certificate, received in 2025 from the Peace Committee of Mexico and also the International Foundation for Creativity and Humanity (IFCH) of the Kingdom of Morocco. This certificate is recorded with the signatures of Dr. Gloria Ríos Ayarede (Coordinator of CCI Global Poetic Utopia and Cultural and Peace Ambassador of IFCH), Dr. Alfredo Rodríguez (President of IFCH), and Dr. Manuel Ekhua Estrella (Founder of CCI Global Poetic Utopia).

Fatemeh Rezanejad also actively participated in the 4th Afro-Asian Literary Conference in 2025, and a selection of her poems was published and critically examined in the book "Nabsh al-Nusus" by Mohamed Issa Mohamed, a Djiboutian author and critic. Furthermore, the translation and publication of several of her poems in the book "Qotuf Naqdiyya" by Hamed Habib, Egyptian author and critic, and executive director and researcher of Liraw Virtual Persian-language Radio, reflects her growing position in the transnational literary sphere.

One of the distinctive features of Fatemeh Rezanejad's literary portfolio is the composition and compilation of Gilaki poems in bilingual format, with Persian translation and recreation by the poet herself — an approach that has helped expand the audience of Gilan's native poetry and solidify its linguistic identity in the contemporary space.

She is currently compiling and preparing her third book, a collection of classical and modern poems, for publication.

Fatemeh (Mahnaz) Rezanejad, relying on the literature of love, peace, and local identity, and with an active presence in international literary and cultural circles, is considered among the active and influential figures of contemporary poetry in Gilan. She continues her professional path with a scientific, cultural, and cross-cultural vision in the field of poetry and literary activities.

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MOON

The moon turned in my blood —

and I,

before I had any name,

already heard

the world split open.

No — the moon.

In the warm dark of water,

I dreamed the sleep of a stone

that had broken free

from some distant peak.

In my veins

a memory beat —

older than man,

older than the apple,

older than the first fear of the earth.

No one called me.

But the wind

passed through my raw bones

and carried the smell of exile.

I knew the taste of wounds

before I was born.

I knew grief

before I ever cried.

The world had no face —

only claws

reaching for me

from behind the fog.

And life —

no bright road,

but a silent field

where under each step

a sleep of explosion

was hidden.

The moon turned in my blood —

and I,

slowly,

fell

into myself.

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IN YOUR DREAMS

In your dreams

I will speak poetry —

not of you,

but of the distance

that has made itself at home

between two breaths.

A poem

of boundless longing —

from the Middle East

to the Horn of Africa,

where geography

collapses

into the throat of your name.

No word

can warm itself

against this longing —

not even

if I have drained

the cup of love

a thousand times.

I have passed

beyond Pythagoras' equations

to reach you —

but the road

always

crosses the missing side

of the triangle.

Phoenix-like,

I have risen

from my own ashes —

with wings

that still

smell of burning.

None of this

is the problem.

The problem

is your absence —

that simple void

that unravels

the whole world.

I say it without veil:

as vast as the Sinai desert,

the history of your longings

is inscribed in me —

not on stone,

but in the beating of my chest.

My poems

cannot breathe

without you —

and the words

in my mouth

are dressed in black,

as if language itself

has been in mourning

for you

for years.

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FOR RANA — A POWERFUL POETESS

In my dreams

I always see you

in Kabul —

a woman in a bright chador

that smells of books,

and the white chalk of your fingers

settles on the blackboard

quietly as snow.

The children

have circled around your voice,

and you —

amidst the smoke and silence —

still speak of life,

of a homeland

whose walls

have been eaten by war for years.

Sometimes,

from behind the window of imagination,

I hear

the women

whose hopes

were silently buried

in dark graves —

women

whose names

the night erased from the streets.

And you —

still standing,

with a mirror in your hand

and a handful of water

for the tired face of this city.

Rana,

I know you come from the lineage of women

who, in the Shahnameh,

passed through fire

but did not bend —

women

who knew the night

and were not afraid of its bats.

I know

that one day,

in that same small classroom,

when you draw chalk across the board —

the men asleep in history

will finally understand:

a woman's hands

that know how to write

are sharper

than any gun.

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IF I HAD KNOWN

after Fatemeh Rezanejad

If I had known

that one day

you would leave

without saying goodbye —

I would have given

every single second

to your embrace.

I would have loved you

more than tomorrow,

more than hope itself —

so that the future

would never take your place.

In the rain

I would not have let go of your hand —

I would have let the streets

breathe with our footsteps,

and let the words

grow wet with your name.

At night

I would have used the moon as an excuse

so our song

could rest on the shoulder of silence,

and the darkness

could retreat.

If I had known

that so much would stay

unfinished in me —

I would not have held back,

not even for

the blink of an eye.

I wish you knew —

I am still

standing in that same moment

when you were supposed to stay.

And waiting

is my other name.