Emre ŞAHİNLER was born on April 10, 1989 in Kartal, İstanbul. He finished Çırağan High School in 2007. He graduated from Istanbul Aydın University, Faculty of Economics and Administrative Sciences. In 2012, he studied at Wroclaw School of Banking in Poland. In 2013, he completed his undergraduate education at the University of Klagenfurt (Alpen-Adria-Universität) in Austria.

His poems and writings on poetry have appeared in Akatalpa, Akköy, Akşam Kitap, Eliz, Fora, Gard, Kurşun Kalem, Lacivert, Mühür, Panoptikon, Patika, Radikal Kitap, and Şiiri Özlüyorum magazines, fanzines and poetry yearbooks. Those he has written have been translated into various languages. He has attended poetry recitals, symposiums and festivals.

His published book:

  • Ölü Mızıkacılar Diyarı (The Land of Dead Musicians, 2013)


The stairs of our house are very narrow, Mehmet!
you know well the song
which night watchmen keep on saying
why are the lame rooms of my heart
so calm and made of glass?…

Our street is very noisy, Mehmet!
you know it well
you were glad as if hearing a kamancha sound in küçük beyoğlu
when the handkerchief girls laughed together

Our city is so terrible, Mehmet!
my father is a deaf and dumb man
and I want the hungover poems to resound
on our raki-scented table…

do you hear me?
I realized this world is not an amusement park
leave-the-country climates have always been covered with ashes of time

There is something you do not know, Mehmet!
the subjects who regard me as an enemy withdrew into their mouseholes
when they saw the bunches of flowers I made from a fishnet…

Do you know, Mehmet?
Allah never stops
by the city of fatherless children…


My languages departs heavily from now on
because the summer has not crossed over my back
                              instead of the mules heavily burdened
I recognized all while passing through Babylon
my hands did not touch the dead swallows stuck in my tongue
I passed through the solitude of rivers
a live lobster wrapped the whole fever of my youth
when I seduced the city with the brass band sounds
scarlet pains in my forehead
echoes of bombing ready to set the sky on fire..
my ravens have declared their independence
this is the republic of skinny states…

All poems on this post: © Emre ŞAHİNLER
Published with the permission of Emre ŞAHİNLER