The Linguist

TL65_3-TheLinguist-Autumn2026

The Linguist is a languages magazine for professional linguists, translators, interpreters, language professionals, language teachers, trainers, students and academics with articles on translation, interpreting, business, government, technology

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10 The Linguist Vol/65 No/3 ciol.org.uk/thelinguist FEATURES How the translators of a prison memoir rendered the sprawling text, smuggled out on scraps of paper, in English Mahvash Sabet is an Iranian prisoner of conscience. First arrested in 2008, she was given a ten-year sentence because she was a Bahá'í, together with her six colleagues on the Yaran-i-Iran – an ad hoc group caring for the Iranian Bahá'í community. The Bahá'ís are the largest religious minority in Iran, and the most persecuted. In 2022, Sabet was sentenced to another ten years, and although she was granted medical furlough for heart surgery in 2024, she remains a prisoner at grave risk. Her first collection of poetry, Prison Poems, was published in English in 2013, winning her recognition as the 2017 PEN Pinter Poetry Prize Writer of Courage. She has also published Raha ('More Prison Poems') and Hekaya-e Asheghi ('A Tale of Love') in Persian. Her prison memoir, Open Wide the Doors, was translated by Azita Mottahedeh and Bahiyyih Nakhjavani over five years from 2018 to 2022. They had worked together previously on translations of Bahá'í writing, and Nakhjavani had also translated Prison Poems. They discuss the process of translating and editing the lengthy Persian text, and the linguistic and emotional challenges involved. Azita Mottahedeh: We did not know what we were getting into when we began. Mahvash had been scribbling on scraps of paper for at least seven years in prison and had accumulated a mountain of notes and notebooks. When she was freed in 2017, she began transcribing these because she knew it was only a matter of time before she might be arrested again. She sent the Persian text to me page by page, and I forwarded the English draft to Bahiyyih in the same way. By the time I reached the last of the 750 pages, five years had passed and Mahvash was back in prison. Bahiyyih Nakhjavani: Once Mahvash found a pen, about three years after her arrest, she wrote on anything she could find: gossamer thin tissue paper spliced in half, pages from poetry books and margins of torn-up newspaper used in the toilets. To hide these from the guards, she stuffed them inside her bra, slept on them, and finally managed to smuggle them out of Evin Prison bit by bit. AM: While we were working on the text, Covid happened and there were many interruptions. We were also facing a moral dilemma: how to reconcile our responsibility towards Mahvash with our consciousness of the danger this book might pose for her and other Bahá'ís. And so it was not until she was arrested again in 2022 – not until she had nothing left to lose – that the work resumed in earnest. That year, the 'Women, Life, Freedom' movement erupted on the streets of Tehran, and a separate campaign was launched to honour the Bahá'í women who were hanged From prison to page © SHUTTERSTOCK

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