An anthology of verse by women poets writing in Persian, most of whom have never been translated into English before, from acclaimed scholar and translator Dick Davis. A Penguin Classic The Mirror of My Heart is a unique and captivating collection of eighty-three Persian women poets, many of whom wrote anonymously or were punished for their outspokenness. One of the very first Persian poets was a woman (Rabe'eh, who lived over a thousand years ago) and there have been women poets writing in Persian in virtually every generation since that time until the present. Before the twentieth century they tended to come from society's social extremes--many were princesses, some were entertainers, but many were wives and daughters who wrote simply for their own entertainment, and they were active in many different countries - Iran, India, Afghanistan, and areas of central Asia that are now Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Tajikistan. From Rabe'eh in the tenth century to Fatemeh Ekhtesari in the twenty-first, the women poets found in The Mirror of My Heart write across the millennium on such universal topics as marriage, children, political climate, death, and emancipation, recreating life from hundreds of years ago that is strikingly similar to our own today and giving insight into their experiences as women throughout different points of Persian history. The volume is introduced and translated by Dick Davis, a scholar and translator of Persian literature as well as a gifted poet in his own right. “In every respect, The Mirror of My Heart is outstanding. Reading it one discovers a whole tradition of love poetry, epigram and elegy, movingly brought into English and then beautifully printed and bound by Washington’s own Mage Publishers. Most important now, this anthology reminds us how much we all share the same joys, the same sorrows.” ­­ –Michael Dirda, The Washington Post Dick Davis is a translator, a poet, and a scholar of Persian literature who has published more than 20 books. He is currently a professor of Persian at Ohio State University and a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. His translations from Persian include  The Lion and the Throne ,  Fathers and Sons , and  Sunset of Empire: Stories from the Shahnameh of Ferdowsi, vols. I, II, III . Rabe'eh   Tenth century     Rabe'eh's family claimed descent from Arabs who had entered Iran during or after the seventh-century conquest of the country. By the time Rabe'eh was born, her father had become ruler of Balkh in what is now northern Afghanistan. Almost no information about her life has come down to us, although the lurid story of her demise is well known: after her father died she is said to have carried on a secret love-affair with a slave or servant at what was now the court of her brother, Hareth. The liaison was discovered, and Hareth cut her throat and left her in a bath-house where she bled to death; her lover then killed Hareth and committed suicide.   *   The garden shows so many flowers, as though   Mani had painted their resplendent glow   Dawn's breezes never bore Tibetan musk,   How is the world so musky when they blow?   Are Majnun's eyes within the clouds, that they   Shed Layli's cheeks' hue on each rose below?   Like wine within an agate glass, his tears   Have filled each tulip with their crimson glow   Raise up the wine bowl, raise it generously   Since bad luck dogs deniers who say "No"   Narcissi glow with silver and with gold   It's Kasra's crown their shining petals show   Like nuns in purple cowls the violets bloom   Do they turn into Christians as they grow?   *   My hope's that God will make you fall in love   With someone cold and callous just like you   And that you'll realize my true value when   You're twisting in the torments I've been through.   *   His love has caught me once again-   I've struggled fiercely, but in vain.   (Well, sobersides, explain to me   Just who can swim love's shoreless sea!   To reach love's goal you must accept   All you instinctively reject-   See ugliness as beauty, eat   Foul poison up and call it sweet.)   I jerked my head to work it loose,   Not knowing all this would produce   Was further tightenings of the noose.   *   I'm drunk with love to know my love is here tonight   And that I'm freed from sorrow and from fear tonight;   I sit beside my love, and earnestly I say,   "God, make the key to morning disappear tonight!"     Mahsati   c.1089-1159   Mahsati was said to be from Ganjeh, in what is now independent Azerbaijan, and to have sought employment as a scribe at the court of the Seljuk king Sanjar, who ruled from 1118 to 1157. She became known as the writer of a considerable number of short poems, and it is likely that many otherwise anonymous poems from the medieval period that seemed to be by women became attributed to her.   *   As wounded, and caught in your snare-there's no one like me   As driven by you to despair-there's no one like me   So many, so eagerly, vie for your lo