Poems by Hilal Karahan





Turkish poetess born in Gaziantep in 1977. A medical doctor by profession, she also translates since 2000 many poetry books. She has joined bilingual poetry almanacs and organizes many international poetry festivals. She published 6 poetry collections,3  prose books and many selected works  published in different langauages. A member of Turkish PEN, Turkish Ambassador of UNESCO-linked World Institute of Peace (WIP) Secretary General of UNESCO-linked Writers Capital Foundation (WCP) and Turkey Director of and World Festival of Poetry (WFP) organizations. She has many national and International Poetry awards. Since 2017, she is a member of publishing council of international bilingual poetry magazines of Absent and Rossetta World Literature.  Since 2016, she organizes Feministanbul Poetry Festival every year.




It lulls the history on its feet since it gave birth to it,                                                                                                           it combs louse from its hair with human ribs.


Skirts of the cities are scattered by desert winds                                                                                                                 over stone courtyards, mosques, ancient squares,                                                                                                           vaulted streets which always lead to one another                                                                                                             Smell of ground coffee, spice and gunpowder                                                                                                                     roasts on same coals:                                                                                                                                                              :Sands cover the blood, but cannot wash…..


Names of God written to the desert                                                                                                                             are savagery, ignorance: children are born and die                                                                                                                  famine is their destiny, diarrhea is their fate                                                                                                                          :Grudge does not make a wish …..

In the desert night                                                                                                                                                                         cold, belief and family consensus                                                                                                                                                  warm up backing in one another                                                                                                                                                   : Even if they are killed. Bedouin felt                                                                                                                                                  does not penetrate blood…..

The women are bought and sold                                                                                                                                                   in exchange for camel                                                                                                                                                              They are circumcised from life:                                                                                                                                                Their face are tattooed to men,                                                                                                                                               hearts are harvester…..



With its claws, death caresses                                                                                                                                          rubber boats crossing Al Sirat                                                                                                                                               certain hopes drop into fire ocean.                                                                                                                                     The world, whose sough                                                                                                                                                             is disappeared, waves at                                                                                                                                                              backstage like a curtain

When morning has dawned,                                                                                                                                          refugee children trundle                                                                                                                                                                     into the middle of mettle:                                                                                                                                                                          Europe is looking blind, listening deaf.                                                                                                                                    If they can reach to doors,                                                                                                                                                           It will accept 400 thousand refugees                                                                                                                                          to make voluntary toothpicks                                                                                                                                                   for cogwheels of capitalism.                                                                                                                                                They will be hungry, thirsty                                                                                                                                                     but still alive                                                                                                                                                                                  if they can pass Aegean waves,                                                                                                                                             Greek police batons,                                                                                                                                                      Hungarian wire fences,                                                                                                                                                  Macedonian railways,                                                                                                                                                                     if they can reach Europe.

Middle East has shaken out                                                                                                                                                    the tablecloth, paradise and hell                                                                                                                                          are got under feet                                                                                                                                                         Everyone lives in a heart’s cage                                                                                                                                        watched the earth                                                                                                                                                               through wounds.

Presentation:   “Tragedy of little child as a symbol of thousands desperation: After his family’s struggle to reach Europe, a Syrian child was drowned in Aegean Sea and his corpse was thrown to Turkish coast”.

Daily Mail, 3.9. 2015



My mother gave birth to me                                                                                                                                          excruciating for twelve hours                                                                                                                                                   not to be your slave

She washed my hair with scented                                                                                                                                                             soaps not to be covered

She faced my books not to be                                                                                                                                             burned at school garden

Was the city a skittish dog,                                                                                                                                                pinching its tail, howled                                                                                                                                                      until morning?

The streets streamed like wine                                                                                                                                                                                         awfully smelled gunpowder…….

Chibok, where words are over                                                                                                                                                    evil has mangled charity in a night

Bearded villians who deleted the destiny                                                                                                                         which makes us human, evolved to lice

In darkness history forges the decalogue                                                                                                                              and melting hearts become steel with tears

  1. Presentation: 0.0.

“2 years ago (16.4.2014) in Nigeria, 275 Chibok girls students kidnapped by terrorist Boco Haram group are still missing. Desperate parents don’t believe in government to look for their children.For the last 2  years, suicide bombers used by Boco Haram were mostly girls.These parents also know this fact. If someone says that their girls to be murderers, they don’t believe. She says; I gave birth to her . I will be happy even if she comes with a gun. Let her kill me.”  15 Nisan 2016 06.12  Stephanie Hegarty BBC presswoman, Mbalala.



Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here