The years "rejuvenate and grow old", Drit?ro Agolli only "shines!

He, from life, went to eternity, from death, to immortality..! On any annual birthday, Drit?ro Agolli is 'rejuvenated', on any day of the year he passed away, he 'shines' with the work he left behind. Even the brightness of the stars can fade, but the brightness of the Window never.! I have many reasons to say this.. Even when February comes, when he separated from us physically, he comes to us with his immortal work. In the month of October, he comes to us physically, with his sweet words he advises us, with his pen, he illuminates our future... He has no death day, he only has one birthday, not one but two. I say it because everyone knows that Poets never die, they are eternal. Poets are dedicated to the spiritual beauty of people, they are dedicated to the beauty of life, they are dedicated to love... Even on the worst day of my thoughts, I and all those who write, when it comes to writing something about poets, thoughts do not wait for the "turn", and in a special way when it comes to poets like Dritëroi, they come naturally and fluently and surprisingly, they do not get confused. He shined, gave time his name, He has the great merit that throughout his life, he became one with the people, he became one with the fields and mountains, with the land, with nature, that is, with all of these, that are eternal, immortal. .Neither the years nor the centuries can dim the brilliance of his work. It is enough to reach out to the bookshelf, and he comes down naturally, smiling, thoughtful, speaks with his calmness, with his wisdom. Come down and let's drink a glass/ you devil of gurgles / Come down and let's talk a little / About the fields of wheat / About the big problems / that never left us / About a stone / A plinth or a tower / About my father's land / you said, I will leave my head / Like the ploughshare / Your mind / In the rocky garden / Plowed poetry / And did not play the stone.”! Tell me now Dritëro, can anyone play the "stone" from your poem? Can your poetry be separated from the ploughshare, from the problems of the people that were never removed from them, from the nuts and wheat?. Do I not have the right to say that your poetry will "die" when the nuts and wheat "die", when the people's troubles "die", when the chirping of the birds "die", when the gurgling of the Rivers "dies" ... Many of these, it is true, have faded somewhat, but they do not die. are added because, among other things, poets are not heard, thinkers, visionaries are not heard. You can hear the politicians who "sing" only to the chair, "sing" to the insatiability! Is it possible to compare those with a gate like yours? Never ever! You, you didn't fight for wealth, you didn't travel in a "Mercedes", you didn't sleep on a feather mattress, you didn't raise a toast in modern salons... You Light, you took moisture from the earth, you were inspired by the song of a nightingale, you didn't immerse yourself in internet, but I get the news from a laraska when it "wags its tail" and it brings news from the world,... You came to the "museum" when you heard the tractor chains, when you felt the darkness of the garbage, when you heard the gurgling of the River, when you were standing in the fallow , when you crouched on a "mezdh", when you rested your head on a stone of the mother earth, when you took out the "cheek" of brandy.. After every sip, your thoughts would come "gurgling" like the gurgling of the Devoll River... That's why "your smile / Remained radiant / On the table of the heart / tear us apart / than the Albanian word / no, bought in the market! . "Oh my land that I plowed and wove songs for you/ That I have loved the grass and the grass/ That I have wiped you with my hands, with my sleeve/ Where will you leave my grave?". Dritëro Agolli, did not move a bit from the "position" of a true patriot, whose heart conquered the fields and mountains, conquered nature, conquered the Albanian land and above all conquered the souls of people of all ages..." You have me you saw, Fatherland, who I was/ Even if I was tired for a moment. I put my head in your lap! Anyone will find inspiration there, will find their feelings, will find beauty, will see the future. The Great Poet rightly wrote: "The poet is like an anvil, that if you don't hit it, it won't let go...". It's more true. Throughout his life, the poet was struck by the "nail" of the earth, the "nail" of human feelings, the aroma of flowers, the gurgling of rivers, the moisture of the earth. They hit him and he let out "sparks", "sparks" of love. The "light bulb" of humanity, the "light bulb" of optimism.. These "light bulbs" will light up the lives of lives in the Albanian sky, in the hearts of people, of the citizens of this country, "light bulbs" that will never fade... Verse of the Great Window, is so heavy that earthquakes and hurricanes will not shake it. His verse is also very easy... It is so easy that anyone, whether young or old, whether old or young, can pick it up easily, master it and do it very quickly. his property. Anyone will find inspiration there, will find their feelings, will find beauty, will see the future. More than any other poet, Dritëro, what you have written yourself, mostly, suits you when you write: "White as snow to be / bright, bathed in gold / They will insult again, definitely / Without cursing, no one remains / They threw the gold - the third one / in the sludge, in the black swamp / A century passed and they found it / The gold remained Flower... And you, Drit?ro, will remain "gold" for centuries and generations In the future, you will remain a model writer and poet, inspiring, educator, teacher, hopeful...!