Sholeh Wolpé was born in Iran and lived in Trinidad and the UK before settling in the US. She is a poet, playwright and librettist. Her most recent book Abacus of Loss: A Memoir in Verse (March 2022) is hailed by Ilya Kaminsky as a book "that created its own genre—a thrill of lyric combined with the narrative spell." Her literary work numbers over more than a dozen books, several plays, an oratorio/opera, and several multi-genre performance pieces. Sholeh's translations of Attar and Forugh Farrokhzad have garnered awards and established her as a celebrated re-creator of Persian poetry into English. Sholeh is the poetry editor of The Markaz Review and a writer-in-residence at University of California, Irvine. She divides her time between Los Angeles and Barcelona.

Books by Sholeh Wolpé:

Other poems on the web by Sholeh Wolpé:
Two poems
"Letter to America"
"How Hard is It to Write a Love Song"
Three poems
Two poems

Sholeh Wolpé's Website.

Sholeh Wolpé on Twitter.

About Abacus of Loss:

"'Exile is a suitcase with a broken strap,' writes Sholeh Wolpé in this autobiographical story that takes us across borders of language and time, from 'a hill high above Tehran' to the valley in Los Angeles. It is a journey where—we soon learn—'loss is a language' and the 'fastest way out of a labyrinth / is up.' So much to love about this brave and musical storytelling. I for one admire how much Wolpé loves our days, how much tenderness and insight each moment's turn offers. There is much gusto, too, and such style and verve. 'Make my curly hair your flag,' the poet tells us, as she guides us on the trip via 'boats crusted with our stories.' Abacus of Loss is a terrific book, thrilling with lyric as it casts a narrative spell. Bravo!"
—Ilya Kaminsky

"The poet tallies her losses—loss of dear ones, loss of home and country, loss of language and faith. Yet, recollecting her life memory by memory, Sholeh Wolpé finds ways to love and to be thankful. She is truly a daughter of Rumi."
—Maxine Hong Kingston

"Sholeh Wolpé's Abacus of Loss is a manual for living. How to stay permeable to wonder and joy in a world that so aggressively conspires against them? In a world that can be so corrosive to grace? In one poem Wolpé writes, 'Our passports lie on the yellow Formica table / side by side, two countries at war.' In another, 'God is just a vagabond / peddling bombs and swords.' There is a remarkable braid here of a woman's journey through a world run by men drunk on their own power, through a cosmos governed by a God apparently hidden by his. Abacus of Loss is a remarkable achievement, an unforgettable text."
—Kaveh Akbar