Astrit Lulushi : Light of Wisdom, an Article by Maria Elena Mignosi Picone

 

[Astrit Lulushi]

[Maria Elena Mignosi Picone]

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathanael asks Philip in the Gospel of John. And Jesus came. And we ask ourselves: “Can anything good come from Albania?” And Astrit Lulushi came. And Astro shone. The light of wisdom.

His life wasn't easy. Far from it. "I've never been lucky" (Fate), he confides. Even worse: "I've been savagely abused by life" (Aria). He suffered immense pain. Sadness accompanied him from a young age throughout his life. "At least let the sadness be mine alone" (Fate).

He never had youth. And this was due to human wickedness. And not just any people, but heads of state. He experienced the bitter taste of dictatorship: “They had stripped us of our identity” (Farm). “…the traumas we suffered find no rest, / in a monstrous historical scenario.” (Farm). He tasted the gall of cruelty. Depriving a child of his childhood, like depriving a young person of his youth, are horrendous crimes because they deprive human beings of love, of joy, which are the air that makes them live and grow. “In their veins there was the strength of life and the lion's roar, / on faces ravaged by despair / night fell and evening never came.” (Farm).

But there is something that, even in the harshest and most suffocating oppression, remains free, and can fly like a seagull over the sea. It is thought. "I wander with thoughts like a bee among flowers" (In the Mirror). This, precisely, was what young Astrit Lulushi relied on, and thought was his salvation. He nourished it with study. He discovered the beauty of knowledge, he loved wisdom boundlessly. And his wisdom was pure because it was imbued with faith, the Catholic faith to which he remained anchored throughout his life.

For the Greeks, philosophy was the love of wisdom. And it's not for nothing that Astrit Lulushi defines the poet as "The Master among philosophers," as "...he establishes justice.../ His wisdom and power embrace nature and humanity." (The poet's words).

Wisdom is truth, and the poet, who is a singer (“His spirit is that of a singer”) (The poet's words) presents it by cloaking it in the beauty of musicality. “The poet retains the gems of his words. / A treasure he leaves to his loved ones, his acquaintances, writers, and his readers.”

And his poetry is born from life: “…with drops of his own blood / he mends and embroiders the words / hanging from the thread of life.” Thus in the poet, life and music, art and truth merge.

And he doesn't keep all this for himself but offers it generously to others for the edification and happiness of the human soul. "...poetry is free. / Everyone should be happy." (Aria)

Astrit Lulushi's verses reach a height of poetic intensity. An example: "At the end of a country road, / a timid puddle appears / where the moon drowned / pale as dawn / and violent as a slap / the rain came." (The Pond).

His style is clear, limpid, and crystalline like spring water. His verses flow fluidly and easily, sometimes in the darkness of a broken and grieving spirit, sometimes in the brightness of the sun, the sun of wisdom.

Human wisdom is the reflection of divine wisdom. The image of a mirror or a pond in which he is reflected often recurs in him. And our Astrit is the mirror of God's wisdom. His words are those of Jesus, his thoughts, his works are those of Jesus. The Son of God wanted to assimilate him to himself. Until the crucifixion. "... the man falls asleep / and was beautiful even in death" (The Pond). Not only in death but also in resurrection to a new life. "He was lost and alone in the eternity of time / while a new warm wind blew from the sea." (The Pond).

In her faith, Astrit Lulushi sees the hand of God in the events of life. She senses it in human history, in encounters, in love. Here, the beloved and the lover are united by Him, as if predestined: "But I already know that we existed before the world. / Our names were engraved in the clay." (Opportunity).

And this also applies to those unions that have already vanished, for one reason or another, here on earth, but are willed by God and destined for supreme, timeless happiness. "Perhaps we will never meet / but we will always love each other / because it is your heart that beats in mine."

MARIA TERESA LIUZZO AND HER NOVEL ''…AND NOW I'M TALKING!''

[Maria Teresa Liuzzo]

[Astrit Lulushi]

BY ASTRIT LULUSHI (Writer – Poet – Literary and Art Critic – Historical Essayist – Journalist of ''LA VOCE DELL'AMERICA'' - First Editor of the international culture magazine LE MUSE (Italy)

The novel E ADESSO PARLO! first of the famous and successful trilogy by the well-known writer in Italy and around the world, Maria Teresa Liuzzo, proposed for nomination for the Nobel Prize for Literature, is added to the foreign books in Albanian. The book tells of a life of suffering and domestic violence that has as its protagonist a little girl from southern Italy. Her name is Mary and she represents all the girls who are victims of such molestations wherever they are and during their lives. The nightmare of this tortuous and criminal treatment - pedophilia is a crime against humanity - is tattooed on her body as well as in her mind, like the branding of an animal. Mary decides to tell the world, despite the threats she has suffered, what really happens inside the domestic walls at the mercy of beasts and ogres under the eyes of complacent wives and mothers. The victim of the novel in order not to succumb to the continuous physical and moral torture and not to die, invents a life. The one she would have wanted, and from the ''cell'' where her jailers confined her, she managed to create an artificial paradise and even a love. She kept ''well preserved for herself only the flower of that rocky journey...''. Perhaps death spared her to force her to live a thousand more deaths. Maria Teresa Liuzzo dedicates this book to her son Davide, whom she loved even before he was born. ''He was in fact the light of her eyes, her only reason for living''; therefore, from the mother's womb that inseparable bond with the child is created, even before he faces the world, and even beyond. This wonderful human and spiritual bond is not just a sensation, but an osmosis of soul, body and blood! Davide participated unconsciously and actively in her life. He lived, an unaware and innocent spectator, as in a dramatic film all the phases of that horrible and shameful tragedy. An indispensable companion in a thousand difficulties, he observed under the microscope - like a scientist the cancer cell imagining a miracle drug that could defeat that invasive evil that leads to certain death, if not treated immediately. Mary is sure that without her David she would never have described these monstrosities and therefore, this novel would never have been born. She would not have had the strength to write it... because writing means reliving that cursed past. The book is part of the Classic Psychological Works that speak of painful memories, but also of courage, redemption, salvation "beyond the holy denunciation". The arrival of the novel "And now I speak!" in Albania is also an aid for the treatment of similar traumas in the Albanian world that even today is not far and different from "that world" experienced and described by the protagonist. The text is recommended for all ages. The novel published by TIRANA TIMES, will soon be exhibited in bookstores.

INTERVIEW/ASTRIT LULUSHI BY MARIA TERESA LIUZZO

INTERVIEW WITH THE FAMOUS WRITER ASTRIT LULUSHI - JOURNALIST - ''THE VOICE OF AMERICA''

 

ISSUED TO MARIA TERESA LIUZZO - EDITOR OF THE INTERNATIONAL CULTURE MAGAZINE ''LE MUSE'' (ITALY)

 

[Astrit Lulushi]

[Maria Teresa Liuzzo]

Astrit Lulushi's work is monumental, complex and articulated. It unfolds over a very long period of time and is characterized by creative vision and originality. Its main characteristic is versatility. He is, in fact, a Writer, Essayist, Literary and Art Critic, Philosopher, Historian, acute and very talented poet, journalist of ''LA VOCE DELL'AMERICA'' (Washington). We are faced with a total intellectual who makes our thoughts go to Ungaretti, Montale, but also to Baudelaire, Pound, Eliot. The overall activity is linked to a centre, visible and occult, which also constantly tends towards the conquest of poetry: transversally in the different forms of Scripture; of art in general; of the very current theories on discontinuity, not only at a sub-atomic level, and on the constitution of matter, to the unification of the unity of being, therefore also psychological, touching on the sphere of the absolute. At the same time, the forces and action of time are revealed: it does not matter if the Heraclitean panta rei and the eternal Parmenidean immobility oscillate. Everything is dynamically wrapped in a universalizing vertigo which, due to the effect of the word, takes on immortal mobility. In the body of readings we encounter some literary ancestry and ''Leitmotifs'' with Lee Masters in the Spoon River Anthology, an operation that is not easy, but even risky because it establishes a comparison with a masterpiece of world literature. But Lulushi emerges with extreme vigor and dignity, above all by imposing the original features of his language. An interior landscape formed in his life of travel and escape when he emigrated to America. For his culture he remains an enigma in the eyes of his readers and researchers today. He knows that a life of tragedy guarantees the best of writing and goodness.

A character, Lulushi, who from the outdated point of view in the Nietzschean sense, when he reaffirms the values is against the contemporary ''philistines'' who condition and pollute contemporary literature - and in contrast to the mediocrity, which seems to prevail in the writing as a whole, of art in general. Here we cannot dwell on everything, but neither can we remain silent about a Work which stands out - in our humble opinion - as a milestone, due to the consequence of an absolute genius like Plato. Astrit Lulushi's revelation of Plato seems to us to be a brilliant and extremely useful operation. His writing represents a clear autonomous example that contains the spirit and meaning of the original work intact and adheres perfectly to our cultural and human contemporaneity. He exposes his conception of time as he perceives it in the course of his existence, biographical and creative, which, however, in him coincide and arrive naturally and paradoxically, through the acceptance of every relativistic principle, of the indistinct space-time sphere shaping each of his works and above all poetic ones with somatizing principles dating back to ERNST MACH (1838 - 1916) for his scientific and philosophical culture and for his aerodynamic, unveiled writing that goes into earthly and terrestrial space, to the truth; to MAX PLANCK (1858 - 1947) for his genius which, when discovered, creates beauty and wonder; PLATO (427 BC - 347 BC) how he deduces and investigates the Knowledge of Love and Politics around the world of ideas, myths and Parmenidean doctrine. What is looking at universal silence if not having a soul? (FEDOR IVANOVIC TYUTCEV).

Astrit Lulushi does not consider thought as materiality, but far from animality and is far from that pathological collectivity that craves dominance, ambiguity and annihilation, as happens in society where the god of money counts and not the intelligence of the honest . In a violent society under philanthropic appearances in which everyone is aimed at realizing themselves as a material subject and making their dark neurons win. The writer's verses, his novels, his discoveries, his philosophy will be immortal where thought becomes high poetic and narrative creation; his questioning of the meaning of existence, of the impossibility of grasping the mystery. We reflect on the progressive and unstoppable loss that has brought about the contempt of man, which still today, in the third Millennium, proceeds without recovery, or a fake recovery.

 

Interview

 

Q. What role does writing have in contemporary society for you?

A. In any art, there must be two initial gifts: Talent and Experience. I don't know to what extent, but they have to be there. I started writing late and put it off for so many years. When I finally started, I felt like I had nothing to lose and that I might as well tell the truth. My life changed and in the new world there were many things that many in Albania had never heard of, because they lived isolated like in a prison.

The material stays in your body for a long time before you start writing. The books I wrote took time because I had to find the right place to write. America has become my second country and anxiety my second language. I think in Albanian and write in Albanian and for Albanians.

 

Q. You as a scrupulous and intelligent observer. His eye is a magnifying glass that communicates between reality and dreams. Tell us about this aspect.

A. It's like forever: one has many, many chambers in the brain that make one big room. That's the nature of the art form and that's what's happening now. Only the small room has become large. Anyone can write. It's just like in school, children learn to put words together into sentences; then they connect them, make them coherent with other sentences, so that they can be expressed both in writing and orally. But saying that anyone can become a poet or writer is like saying that anyone can compose a sonata. In any art, there are two initial gifts that must be there: Talent and Experience. I don't know how much there has to be, but there has to be.

 

Q. In your writings, in addition to the themes that speak of myth and justice, you often refer to God and the Holy Scriptures.

A. Why not? After all, the first man is God's creation, despite the fact that there are many in the public who say otherwise - especially our now older generation. We were born, educated and raised in the half of the world that was communist and atheist. At the beginning, when I came out of the communist hell, the first thing I asked was to give me a Bible - a very heavy book both in paper consistency and in thoughts and which have great value for a person like me.

 

Q. Your works are rich in teachings and are in constant comparison with the way of understanding life of yesterday and today.

A. True, it's as you say. These are lessons that I have learned during my life and I try to pass them on to young people. The reason I write them in Albanian is that my people need it as a basis to understand more than what they have been indoctrinated with. I am sorry and compassionate to them to the point of pity. They were proud but had a little to show.

 

Q. Your works are historical, ethical and social documents of great depth, which combine psychological and sociological aspects with characters that your mind describes with emotional tension.

A. I make a distinction between a very effective fiction, which lets the words flow beautifully, and so on. I write differently than some people. You really have to press the material to get something out of it, and not just take every sentence in the book and graft it on. It made me feel a little like I was reading someone. David Foster Wallace, he always said, "I can't play that game. I wish I could, but I can't."

Young people have a saying: "kill in your lane." This is a very important principle of writing. You need to figure out what you can't do, block it out, and focus on what works.

 

Q. I had an enthusiastic impression of your extraordinary works. Do you think you have entered the heart and soul of the creative trend, its fluctuating reality with a critical spirit?

A. For everything, man has two opinions: negative and affirmative. One of the first sayings comes from a diary written by Søren Kierkegaard in 1835: There are two possible situations: you can do this or that." My honest opinion and friendly advice is this: do it or don't do it, you will regret it either way. So, once again, don't expect concrete answers, talent and life experience remain the basis of writing, as in everything else. What I need to clarify is “do what you need to do, not what you need to know.”

Astrit Lulushi: His versatile creative sensibility By Maria Teresa Liuzzo - founder and director of the international cultural magazine "Le Muse" (Italy)

[Maria Teresa Liuzzo]

[Astrit Lulushi]

Astri Lulushi's writing caught my interest because of the amount of quality work that only rare writers can afford. His signature, in my opinion, takes the first place among the chosen ones. The themes addressed are of a universal nature, they speak of love, history and erotic contemplation in its heavenly beauty: the result is a masterpiece of precious writing and elegant contemplation that contrasts in a modern scenario. The author seeks a solution to existential problems. His language, restrained and never shy, succumbs to the tension when it takes on dramatic tones, although covered by a touching sweetness that is music and prayer. His intimate biography goes through a formal progression of a family and sentimental nature, moving from the collective to the objective. Coherent writing that goes from fleeting joy to human frustrations and history that seems relentless in our eyes. In the sadness of his (the writer's) gaze, truth becomes a word that condemns History in its tragic, shocking cruelty. Her smile is absent or barely hinted at and becomes liquefied like that of undines, aquatic creatures with bodies that transcend the limit of the visible through the language of complicity that caresses the chosen souls and: 

''while the heart sighed 

the moon opened in your face. 

It was a beautiful dream''.

Its elegance is not for show or exhibitionism: Astrit Lulushi is measured in its silent simplicity. There is respect and common sense, there is "savoirfaire". Kail (Agostino Degas): ''Belonging is a superior connection that defies the limits of time and distance. The spirituality of souls meeting forever... and even death will not be able to separate''. His writing is always a constant, refined elegance where the idiom of consciousness remains unknown. Profound literary expression is hidden in the power of words, and it is up to us readers to find water in the desert like diviners. The author's life is similar to that of a child thrown into the fire, who, burning, joined him and learned to "love" him as a sacred text. From those flames come readings that last only a night, others forever, like black roses that bloom in winter in their overwhelming beauty, but you can't tell whether words of love or death come out of their glow. His mind is in the melody of the wind and the sound of the water. Regarding Faruk Myrtaj's well-known criticism of the incredible life of Astri Lulushi, it is incredible not only his way of life, but the whole life of this special writer. An existence lived between adventure and tragedy. Suffice it to say that he entered the water barefoot, crossing the sand like an anonymous bather until he came out to sea, just as St. Francis of Paola - the patron saint of Calabria - did when he crossed the sea in his cloak. It was a trauma for a boy, in his early twenties, to interrupt his studies to find himself catapulted into an unknown country, not knowing the language of the land he had landed in.

Perhaps, unwittingly, it reminds me of the life of "Richard the Lionheart", the pain that arose in his chest was overcome by the will to "keep dreaming", to overcome all weather to realize his dream without seeing back. In a short time he sacrificed himself, learned a foreign language and studied profitably. His message was positively received by the dispossessed, the marginalized, the lonely, the defeated, the exiles, the patriots who were his great audience. He became the "Voice of America." But in front of the writer lies the greatness of the true, just, faithful to his principles, cultured, generous man. A man of facts and not words. All of this could not but hit me like a sword in the chest as a person first and second as the director of an international culture magazine "Le Muse", published for 24 years and a talent scout, who has saw Creme and published on its pages the Central European and world community of poets, writers, researchers, Nobel Prize winners and candidates for the same prize.

I saw in AstritLulushi a crucified body, in him I recognized an undermined psyche - for only those who have experienced the pain and carry it within themselves can recognize that of others. His amazing creativity is set aside by the "jackals" of the moment, because those who are better than others always represent a danger to the "wretched" and the dishonest. But the truth is like love that no one can cage, as well as the powerful voice of the author not only in Albania but in the world. There is a saying that the grass is always greener on the other side. Cultured people are unpleasant because they do not allow themselves to be manipulated. So those cursed with envy even pretend to celebrate the dead to abuse the living: unbelievable but true. They penalize perfection to give credit to the most vulgar submission that falls on the carpet like a pilgrim at their feet. After all, wasn't Cain the one who killed Abel out of jealousy? And Joseph's brothers sold him as a slave to the merchants, taking the bloody garment to their father, saying that it had been torn to pieces by a wild animal? The primary interests of Astri Lulusi are peace, the protection of nature, the well-being of humanity. His elegance and reserve were greeted in retaliation, not with the honors he would have deserved. His writing is noble and sanguine and one can discern his DNA, consistency, authority, patience, research, memory, qualities that make him unique on the international stage. His encyclopedic masterpiece should be appreciated especially in the country of origin, i.e. in Albania. It should be praised, and protected as a precious asset, as is done with monuments - in our case "Human" - place of UNESCO World Heritage. . It reminds me of the great poet of 1900, Lorenzo Calogero - who committed suicide - whose value was recognized posthumously by his "rival" Eugenio Montale, who said that if this had happened (i.e. if Calogero would had received the Nobel) he would have "buried" them all. It is said that history repeats itself - and I am sure of it - perhaps because, like William Faulkner (1897-1962), in the bourgeois and modern era theory turned into drama. We find similar elements in Hemingway, Caldwell and Scott-Fitzgerald (such as the presence of tragedy). War writer, nuclear super tech writer, to space travel. Beyond the author's way of expression, there is an extraordinary compression that goes beyond the known saying, as it is separated from the concrete time of life (the unhealed pain of the loss of his beloved son) who died at the age of thirty. - two. 

Astrit Lulushi, like Aldo Palazzeschi, does not trust the tone and the upper classes, not being a professor, he does not like some institutions. "The way of the sea" was his great teacher. He wanted to see with his own eyes how to really live, he understood people who shared their faith by talking to them. He revealed the "hidden" part of people, the anomalies, all closely from many aspects and free from any rhetorical temptation. We know that the truth cleanses our souls of deceit and hatred, and writing is a good ally, a lifeline. In his verses we find a conscience that bleeds and a good one that appears with fear and slips into the gaze of the interlocutor like the sun when it sinks into the sea. His thoughts do not fear the lightning rod, his subconscious explodes and becomes magma in his heart and soul. His voice imposes itself and the word sinks into the verses with its achingly tragic loneliness, as the last star sets in a brush of the sky. It is like hanging clothes in the sun, while continuing to plant questions like millet. Gestures, cries, doubts appear where anxieties find an outlet in the various changes that make up and break down each of his writings, where even regret finds new life, having attributed to his language a classical dimension derived from his encounters with people. that you meet on the street, at the barber, at the baker. But above all from those who were poor in words and courage. Astri Lulushi's writing is not the language of power, today the art of the dominant classes, but it is the voice of the heart and reason that questions the conscience and mentality of those who still dress as wolves and cry: "Wolf" that, after the characters of the novels are reflected in the geographical reality and not of the Author, they will be the ones who will turn their backs and accuse him of the opposite. Why not? Therefore, the cry of truth is not revenge, but anger that is very skillfully rooted in a "shadowy place" where the wind will draw the rain and sweep away the blood and ashes, so that the genocide of history does not repeat itself where it does not yes, and the truth when you sacrifice everything for power.

For Astri Lulushi, writing is the voice of blood, it is the life that he loves and feels mutual, enlightened in its most authentic sense. His words teach us that selfish love is seeing the other as an object of one's property and not one where the soul manifests itself in a free and conscious choice. In the few passages we have read, his writing seems almost angelic, sometimes stubborn, other times his 'journey' becomes painful and difficult like that of a homeless traveler. Not everyone knows that the driving force of the world comes precisely from the word. The Author's life was very turbulent and when the tensions of the memory knock on his memory he feels the weight of the pain he experienced. When silence builds walls, he puts words to paper like stone upon stone. It is a bright time locked in the amphora of the past and some tears are barely contained, like the music of a dead. They are indescribable emotions like the angelic whisper of a spring that reminds us of Novalis' "Night Hymns". '. In them the elements mix and fragment despite their diversification, creating a ring of light even in horror. Lulushi sees that incessant movement where ants, cicadas, irrefutable calculations and theories are defined as "cases" because they are artfully manipulated. And now it is his conscience that speaks: 'I cannot raise the dead... free nature and death at the hands of the power that governs us with them... predict here and now another possible life and another death, it is only resurrection that we care about ” (Giorgio Agamben, Requiem for the West).

We are drenched in dystopian visions of certain elites emerging from the wretched environments of their rituals and feasts in every power. All this is negative and destructive for the new generations and toxic for today. Terrible tendencies create confusion, sadness, violence and depression. We live in a virtual world with zero feelings. We find elements that parade because they are convinced that appearance is the place of toys and the sum of the whole. They are not aware of anything and allow themselves to be humiliated and ridiculed as an object, in various possible ways. All this away from reason, beauty and sensuality. Creativity is in sharp decline, while mood disorders are in vogue. We are in the presence of "Carnival of Clowns" by Joan Mirò. A surrealist work where real elements are transformed into the unconscious. Astrit Lulushi knows the responsibility of life, he knows well when he had to improvise a boat and a helmsman and cross the sea of ​​infidelity, escape from the relentless violence of the homeland by fighting against the destructive force of "piranhas". '. He loves culture and owes it to him, because he knows that only culture makes us free and intrigue does not prevail over duty. Even in silence, his word is always pregnant. He knows that time stands in creation, that it is a scale and we are its fulcrum. As an authentic writer, he knows the magic of writing and the pain of its metamorphosis and does not allow his balance to be disturbed. Terrible visions unfold from the memories. He hears again the harvest of lamentations, the smell of gunpowder, the cry of children slaughtered like lambs, the shivers swallowed by the mud. He sees "cobras" plotting in living rooms, by the sea, and wolves selling concrete dreams. And I suggest using a phrase from Winston Churchill: "Never, never, never give up"

ASTRIT LULUSHI, A HERO OF MODERN TIMES : MARIA TERESA LIUZZO

[Astrit Lulushi]

[Maria Teresa Liuzzo] 

Astrit Lulushi, with his precious knowledge and writing, makes us participants in his human, cultural and spiritual experience, through a psychological excavation, after having risen from the underworld. A refined and sensitive author, he leads us through his many writings into an unprecedented world, where words cross the arteries dripping tears and blood, like the rain that falls dancing from the sloping roofs. Astrit Lulushi associates the human with the divine in the perennial struggle between victims and executioners and captures the bright stages of an often tragic path that has the bitter flavor and scent of oleander. The Author mixes myth, past and present with mastery and wisdom, showing us that time is nothing more than a metamorphosis of fragments of unity that follow one another dizzily, in a phantom spiral that only his strength of mind-compass manages to capture and shape into words that become wings in the infinite. (Apeiron). While reading I was fascinated, dragged and conquered by his words which are states of mind that warm the heart more than a ray of sunshine when it pierces the rock; pure feelings that know no shadow of hatred and revenge against the world and society, rather a hand extended as a sign of PEACE. That is his passport that repudiates any sense of violence and prevarication. All this led me to a distant land - which although virtually allowed me to cross borders and barbed wire without suffering any scratches and, to cross and land like a feather on his pierced heart.

In that context of moral, ethical and spiritual cleanliness I was able to see a second St. George fighting with the dragon, and a St. Martin dividing his cloak with the sword to give it to a poor man; but my incredulous and moved gaze could see emerald meadows and flowers unfolding under a rainbow of light - and you have to be dead not to notice it. The words of Astrit Lulushi, for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, are flesh and blood that have crossed the sea of ​​sharks, but also the fires of hell. His mouth chewed salt, his body assimilated the poison of bitter and salty water, during the desert of his "crossing" like Jesus when he crossed the desert with scorpions and hunger as traveling companions. His willpower had wings that didn't burn like Icarus' because they were "spirit". His efforts for a young man who was not at all trained at the time surpassed those of Hercules: God made dawn in his heart and made sure that he reached the "promised land" - where today he lives free and happy. But the work of the true writer never ends because the power of words surpasses that of weapons. His "hunger" is for love and hope, and he fights against social injustices, against suffering, poverty, and in defense of nature, mother of the world and lung of life. These extraordinary qualities make this singular Character, a HERO of modern times who keeps alive the torch of Life suspended between human chaos and divine indulgence. Astrit knows the role of lies on innocence, and the sense of forgiveness and mercy that does not unite men as it should, he senses and recognizes the slow beat of water, the secrets of the body and nature, and manages to "filter" them through life transforming them into art.

Astrit Lulushi : Writer of Recognized International Talent

By Maria Teresa Liuzzo

(Director of the International Culture magazine LE MUSE - Italy)

 

A writer of recognized international talent, a multifaceted, versatile and sensitive person, with an intense interiority, whose talents he knows how to express through an unspeakable docility to the moments that emanate inspiration. / Crumbs of dreams / I don't know where the day is born / and where the evening dies. / Fill the sky with tears and words / like the sea that goes and then returns. / I close my eyes when / the wind caresses me with your hands / I kiss your caress and embrace your pain. An ideal that stands between metaphysical experience and reality in the concreteness of what his writing suggests. The essential and primordial elements of nature are captured, such as the sun, the sky, the sea in its symbolism that evokes mystery and depth, and multiplicity with languages ​​and meanings that refer to aesthetic thought almost to a catechesis of beauty, of the sublime; as an ultimate goal it spreads in the light of creation of which being is a part and coincides with the immensity that the beauty of its art and the infinite mystery summarizes. A demanding beauty that merges with the divine that meets domestic, everyday beauty that can be read, understood, codified in the literacy of a hidden truth; a beauty that provokes the emotion of reason with the fruitfulness that it also suggests to anthropology and philosophy in its various and articulated streams of theoretical reflection. A reflection that places itself between the ideal as a metaphysical experience and the real in concreteness. Love is capable of creating poetry in the most unexpected moments, poetry envelops it in a silent pain that becomes catharsis, perhaps because the pain must be mourned before it can be overcome. The splendor was realized by flickering the shadows on his face, on his features as a man. His word burns perhaps because he has something that others don't have. His verse is precise and impeccable, in that painful silence that I picked up like a rose in the immensity. The choices of the Writer Astrit Lulushi are made with caution and meditation. All you need to do is identify with his words, ultimately live them. We waste precious time that could make our real life a different existence. It's like throwing dice and trusting fate, making our existence a game of chance. You can win, enjoy or cheat. No one knows what will happen next, as no one can predict the future or have a preliminary appointment with destiny. But the Writer emerges victorious. By struggling and suffering he found himself. He crossed the ''dark'' night and traveled towards different and certainly better horizons. Nothing is lost when you truly live. In his verses there is a sleepless night of pain left under the skin, which has served over time to make him know the direction of the wind and to find himself in a place of the heart that he had not foreseen, which has allowed him to discover the sea where there is no 'And. Because it is inherent in the eyes and in the heart. We know that when someone or something (poem) pays attention to us it brings us back to life. Those who are not in love with beauty, justice and wisdom are incapable of thinking. - The equation is not good for the wind in love among the ears. ''And I like to be silent because I want / again and always to listen to you''. It is enough to focus our gaze on the deep roots that resemble erotic natures and give us the sense of the infinite. The aim of this great Artist is not to persuade, but to make people reflect, have passion and honesty for the reason that distinguishes us from the beasts. The word is a body that transmits desire, perdition, madness like a breathless race that fills the lungs with air. The word supports us, it becomes love. It is wisdom that generates harmony woven from the melody of a divine song. The word allows us to express moods and feelings to be expressed, at times, with the difficulty of revealing the intensity and powerful strength of love. The love that allows one to go outside of oneself, yet revealing a minimum of what love itself induces one to feel. I looked for a ''YOU'' to complete my ''I''. In ''Tu'' I feel joy and emotion together with sensations that find an echo in a transfiguring and almost cathartic dimension of myself. You accompany me in the fulfillment of this profound human and interior experience together. You can get close to the truth but not possess it in full. Perfection does not exist. It's like the lie that was crafted to perfection. Everything that is perfect is dead, as finished when reality becomes narration because writing listens to your words and loves you as you are. Astrit Lulushi has been a writer since the beginning he unintentionally builds the myth of himself. Here it is preferable to remove his characteristics, since, if on the one hand it is the writer who feels the false writer is different from himself, on the other hand there is the recognized artistic genius, master of 20th century prose and bringer of a style which in its brevity and incisiveness represents the most significant and innovative expression of the 20th century and beyond. His is an extraordinary style for its ability to evoke with a few words, a few strokes, the hidden reality, the reality that the reader can intuit through the text, the reality hidden within each of us, the one we don't usually look at, the one we are afraid to confess, the one we don't repeat to ourselves when we are alone for fear that someone might hear us. That reality where we know little about ourselves and history because without it our everyday life would be meaningless. He is therefore the singer of our unacknowledged self, the singer who says the things that neither we nor others have the courage to say. The Writer describes the blood of war, of nature, of wounded animals, of flagellations, of genocides, which from a psycho-dynamic point of view is nothing other than internal discomfort and tormented suffering. We find a somewhat desperate life mechanism which is that of the tunnel and on the other the sublimating mechanism of his literary work in which the desire to fly and to be able to perpetuate oneself beyond the destruction of the physical body is expressed. A writing that goes beyond the contingent and in the particular sense of Astrit Lulushi must be projected beyond time and space. His writing also has the ability to attract female beauty to the highest degree because if it word cannot be possessed cannot be loved. Even in this dialectic between the power of possessing and the impotence of reality, the drama of the double is played out. In this, the overcoming of internal discomfort is not overcome through mechanisms of self-destruction, but it is through an internal push that mechanisms of sublimation are received. In fact, this extraordinary person has well overcome this long critical phase because writing has become his woman, his support, someone in which to reflect himself; even a thought can be considered the entity of a friendly voice, so as not to die alone with no one beside you. Certain phenomena have crossed the writer's life and retain a part of themselves. A clarifying process that will ensure that each of us can reach ''that enlightened place'', which can guarantee us a place in the human sphere. Prose and poetry then increasingly become witnesses of the time, taking a stand on the most significant global problems. Writing becomes news that records the event and its memory (war, repression, attacks), takes on new registers: the sarcasm of indignation, the invective of protest, the prophetic tone, the rhetorical questioning. The word becomes turgid, excited, eloquent, bordering on political-religious oratory. In him the need to shout his belief is too alive and bursting, and like a new Savonarola, he expresses his fiery condemnation. His is a message of peace, of justice as an instrument capable of transform Society and give a new course to History, far from the experience of hatred that divides in the name of a God who should be there but is not seen. Every word of Astrit Lulushi is a work that opens up to a universal global vision. His writing is also painting. In it, an ego shines through, at times irrational, which escapes to sink into its ''inner dawn'' and offer us cosmic images immersed in abstract atmospheres. Precious icons that tell the meaning of the human and the divine in an expressive, extraordinary language (his alone), which we could define for its uniqueness: ''metamorphosis of the non-limit''. If we looked at the images upside down we would see a glass of hopes that give each work a great lyrical significance. This great series of apocryphal and imaginative episodes tend to represent man's disorientation in the face of the total epiphany of the Sacred, his immense and abysmal wound - A revelation of Sacredness which, as in Pasolini's Theorem, exposes all fears, the cowardice and hypocrisies of human beings. A writing therefore, that of Astrit Lulushi, which increasingly becomes a witness of the time, taking a stand on the most significant world problems. In Lulushi the topos is the organic and rational theorization both in philosophical writings and in novels. The conclusion is that if the evil (malaise, anguish, discomfort) cannot be eliminated, it can however be counteracted through denunciation, protest, condemnation of violence and war, of social injustice, all factors that generate the ''mal de vivre'' and, in extreme cases even through suicide. An attentive and rapt look could lead us to talk about a theology of beauty that emanates from the observations of its concepts. And I add, referring to hermeneutics, epistemology, axiology: Astrit Lulushi, is beyond the Platonic hyperuranium! A man who doesn't like the spotlight and the only quality he recognizes is modesty. As Augustine of Hippo says: ''Enter yourself, there you will find the light''. Despite the human drama we perceive there is also a reality made of dreams. Often in silence the word is violated but absence makes presence. The mystery of the other is welcomed. Another dimension is discovered, the one that managed to complete us. Because whoever has a heart as big as our writer Astrit Lulush cannot help but possess an immense soul.

[Astrit Lulushi]

[Maria Teresa Liuzzo]

Two Poems by Astrid Lulushi

Translated and interpreted by Maria Teresa Liuzzo (LE MUSE-ITALY’ s International Art and Culture Editor)

The Destiny 

 

The’s no point in stopping 

in the shade  of a tree

And complaining about life’s tragedies 

Not even take the side of the good 

or the bad because  

with the passage of time 

one could be more miserables 

than the other. 

We are born and die alone 

no one take about our martyrdom

 

Some lucky peole have aunts 

who welcome them 

like their neighbors 

when they are alone.

The rain unleashes  its wrath 

on the houses , on the trees, 

on the thoughts scouring them

The belly becomes even more violent 

with the weak and the righteous 

as the storm does with 

the clouds if the wind is against it

 

The evil is who has never known misery

The pang of hunger

The heart felt cry of a child

The desperate mother’s prayer

He’s the one who never 

has wished for anything 

he did not already have 

I’ve never been lucky, 

let the sadness be mine alone, at least

□

Beyond Patience  

 

Time passing is a cancrenous river

The bodies are fossils 

of those who have despoiled

the people  depriving them of all rights

 

They are sharks and jackals 

disguised as helpless

Man the son of the world 

watched and was silent by day

and was  blinded by night  

 

BURGOSA was killed 

because he wanted 

to dream a better future 

to be free as  God created him 

whatever his dream was.

Those like him, instead 

have been destabilized

Frustrated like horses 

by their beast

 They slaughtered them to shreds.

Experience teaches us not 

to trust anyone but often  too late we 

have to believe in something 

or someone to live 

otherwise we will never be able 

to distinguish right from wrong 

 

Most people are good  

believe in family and live 

as best they can .

Bad people exist and will always exist

Because evil never kills itself

You meet them on your way 

suffering will be your lamp 

and enlightens you 

it will make you sure

you can know the healty fruit 

from the sick one. 

So that you can live your life 

in freedom and with joy 

with love.

Only in this way 

will you find happiness  

you who have alwys lived 

as a prisoners

you will be able 

to savor the taste of freedom

 

Always stay on your guard 

against the vultures every thing 

that is beatyful can something 

be deadly life deceive us 

and we can’t do anything

too many people love violence 

and violent sports

 

He slows when he sees a car overturned 

on the edge of the ravine 

as in were a scene from a movie.

The same people love the box 

for no reason at all

They ignore that in the violence 

of the blows

There is also the courage

 of the challenge.

It is tge defeca that surrenders to victory without reaching death

Perhaps the most important thing 

would be for a warrior to have a heart 

inside the chest. 

If this were the case 

every man would rise 

from hope and embrace peace.

A man’s strenght of flight beyond patience 

where others have failed.

It is the light that makes you see 

beyond that dream, 

that no one can see but you

Sometimes people 

don’t want to understand

they don’t have eyes 

to see and they get lost 

in the darkness of life 

like a rootless tree.

□

© Astrit Lulushi