ALBANIA LETERSI PROFILI I NJE SHKRIMTARI DHE POETI

Dashuria
A
Do të lëvdoj dashurinë,
barabar me Perëndinë,
se dashuri e vërtetë,
na mban të gjallë në jetë.
B
S’e kam parë Perëndinë,
shoh ngaherë dashurinë;
dashuria mbretëron,
se njeriu pa të s'rron.
Cinë të besoj taninë,
Perëndin' a dashurinë?
Perëndi në këtë jetë
është dashuria vetë.

LIVADHI I NUSEVE

... PRAGNOVELË





Ideoi kopertinwn: Autori
Piktura : Vasiliki Kalahani
COPYRIGHT Kristaq F. Shabani, 2009

ISBN 99927-3-0
821.18-82










1. ËNDRRAT

Një mace larushe i ndërpreu rrugën në daljen e agimtë MËNGJESIT... Eh, ëndrra...! Mëngjesi sapo ishte çuar nga krevati i artë. Kishte larë sytë e po krehte flokët e bukur tërë ondula... Po jepej pas tualetit të tij. Kishte takimin e Madh në Sallonin e të Dashuruarve. Një mace e bardhë me njollë të zezë ndërpreu klithimin. “Po kjo mace e bardhë me një njollë të madhe të zezë çne që ndërpret rrugën?”... Dita kishte veshur fustan të tejdukshëm sa i dukej i konturuar trupi i formuar. ERA ledhatare lozte me dashje dhe shpërthente në të qeshura gazmore... “Eh, duhet të kapërcej Ylberin të dashuroj Ditën... Një bashkëshorte e tillë duhet për flirte... Ku je shtatëngjyrësh të të kapërcej?” E dinte përmendësh se vajzat janë të bukura pas së puthurës së parë dhe pas së krehurës... Po Dita?... Pas shiut dhe rishfaqjes së Diellit të qeshur? Era meditonte... U pa në pasqyrë. Flokët i kishte të shpupurisura sa më... Kishin kaluar belin nga gjatësia ... “Inat të kemi, moj Erë, për këta flokë të gjatë e vallëzues?! Inat ... inat... inat. Përsëritje në kub?!...” Dita ngriti paksa vetullën lart. Vetulla u harkua. Nuri më i tejdukur i pushtoi fytyrën e ëngjëllt... E dinte ERA se Dita veç Mëngjesit s’dashuronte kërkënd tjetër. Këtë ia kishte thënë në vesh HËNA e pjekur. I kishte parë duke u puthur me zjarr njëri me tjetrin, duke shpërthyer në fjalorin erotik në përbetimin e madh: “Sa të jetë jeta!” Po Hëna s’ishte xhelozuar me Ditën.
Ajo dashuronte një nga yjet...

ΧΡΗΣΤΑΚΗ Φ. ΣΙΑΜΠΑΝΗ

«ΠΕΘΑΙΝΟΥΝ, ΤΑΧΑ, ΟΙ ΘΕΟΙ;»
ποίημα

Το εξώφυλλο:
Μεταφραστής: Κώστας Γκατζώνης

ΤΟ ΒΙΒΛΙΟ ΠΡΟΕΤΟΙΜΑΣΤΗΚΕ
ΑΠΟ ΤΟ ΣΥΝΔΕΣΜΟ ΔΗΜΙΟΥΡΓΩΝ
“ PEGASI” GJIROKASTËR, ALBANIA 2009

ΧΡΗΣΤΑΚΗ Φ. ΣΙΑΜΠΑΝΗ
Τηλ. 003558465867 & 0692553056

Αυτό το ποιητικό μέρος, αφιερώνεται σ’όλους τους ανθρώπους, που σα συνέπεια των ανθρωπίνων δυστυχιών ή και από άλλους αναγκαστικούς παράγοντες έχουν χάσει μέρη του σώματός τους και έχουν επιβιώσει, ανακτώντας δυνάμεις και ενέργειες για δράση.
Ανεξάρτητα από αυτό το «σκληρό ακρωτηριασμένο προτσές» ΑΥΤΟΙ υπερίσχησαν των δυστυχιών και παίζουν ενεργό ρόλο... και στο φόνο του «ΜΟΙΡΑΙΟΥ- ΥΠΟΚΕΙΜΕΝΟΥ».
Ο ΣΥΓΓΡΑΦΕΑΣ
ΑΡΓΥΡΟΚΑΣΤΡΟ, ΑΛΒΑΝΙΑ
Απρίλης ,1999
*
ΤΡΕΙΣ ΑΣΤΡΑΠΕΣ ΚΟΨΑΝΕ ΤΟΝ ΟΥΡΑΝΟ ΣΤΗ ΜΕΣΗ

Η γιαγιά μου έχει πει πως όταν γεννήθηκες εσεί οι βροχές δεν είχαν πάψει, τρεις αστραπές έκοψαν στη μέση τον Ουρανό σαν ένα μαχαίρι με παράξενη κόψη... και το σώμα του ουρανού άφησε κάτι κραυγές με παρατεταμένους ήχους «ΟΧ..ΟΧ... ΟΧ!»
Ο Νέστορας είπε μια φράση γλυκιά: «Γεννήθηκε ο αδερφούλης μου!» Κι έτρεξε ο μικρούλης στο μαγικό καλντερίμι...
Πίσω του έτρεξε βιαστικά ο πατέρας μου, ο Περικλής, για να πιάσει την «πεταλούδα» του χειμώνα, που τρόμαξε τον Ουρανό και τις Αστραπές...

Kristaq F. Shabani
“Korsi e kaltër”
shënime kritike




Ideoi kopertinën: Autori

Copyright Kristaq F. Shabani, 2004

Ta ruajmë gjuhën

Ah, kjo gjuha arbërishte,
Është gjuhë trimërishte…

Që të lartësohej gjuha deri këtu u deshën përpjekje, humbje, përplasje, mani të lulëzuara, dashakeqësi, “ndrydhje” coptim gërmash përdorim gijotinash, eliminime fizike, projekte antikultirimi; notim në analfabetizëm që prodhon bisqe e këto degë e kurora paditurie …
Por, sidoqoftë, tashmë është arritur në një lartësi të paparë. Gjuhëtarët tanë me emër dhe gjuhëtarët e huaj që u bashkuan në një front të përbashkët për të zbuluar te shqipja diamantet dhe që dolën në definacione të mëdha që ne i përdoruam në siparin e shfaqes së këtij organi:“Perëndia e Shqiptarëve Ë SHTË SHQIPJA”, apo ‘Shqipja si gjuhë gjeniale.” Shqipja është gjuhë e një populli që gjithmonë ka qenë i privuar nga liria, por që nuk i ka pushuar kurrë përpjekjet për të ruajtur konturet tokësore dhe gjuhën e tij të bukur. Paçka nga përpjekjet makabre për të ndaluar një gjuhë, për të prerë një gjuhë kaq të pasur, nuk u mundësua kurrë një gjë e tillë. Çuditërisht populli ynë paçka se nuk ju dha mundësia të shkruaj herët me alfabetin e vet gjuhën e bukur u profesionalizua kujtesa e tij,e cila u përcoll nga një brez në brezin tjetër me një aftësi të veçantë mrekullore.Përpjekjet e tij u konkretizuan në dy shekujt që kaluan ku gjuha jonë shkoi gjjithmonë drejt gradintit rritës si dhe njehësimi të saj pasurimi letrar.Brenda këtyre shekujve sidomos u bë një përparim i madh në drejtim të krijimit të veprave letrare me tema madhore të cilat padyshim janë fond i artë në ‘Altarin e Krijimit Shqiptar’.Në këtë altar futen të gjitha veprat e ‘prodhuara’ edhe në vendet ku banojnë shqiptarët. Lidhjet e krijuesve “PEGASI”
tashmë ,të gjitha organizmat letrare janë hedhur në një veprimtari të mirëfilltë për ta ruajtur dhe pasuruar gjuhën.Është një përpjekje e bukur dhe e mirë ku mjaft autorë dhe krijojnë dhe botojnë veprat etyre në shqipen e bukur si në: Kosovë,
letrare.

Potenca e Fjalës

Fjala është diamanti i të folurës dhe të të shkruarit. “E para është fjala!” përkufizon Bibla. Ky përkufizim total ka treguar epërsinë e vet që nga krijimi i botës dhe që kur filloi predominimi i fjalës ndaj sinjaleve. Nuk po zgjatemi me gjëra të njohura si të folurit e fjalës, intonacioni i saj, të shkruarit, sepse këto janë të njohura. Do të ndalemi te potenca (forca) e fjalës. Po kështu këtë forcë do ta zbërthejmë në fushën që na intereson Letërsinë.
Sot shfrytëzohet së tepërmi potenca e artit të fjalës. Një vepër potente s’diskutohet, ka tërësi fjalës të ndërthurura, të pleksura, të ngjyruara, të dritëzuara, të hijezuara, të veshura me emocione dykahësh me prezencë të tharmit, por në sipërfaqen e “të shkruarit” ka dhe fjalë meite, të verdhura,në prag ikjeje, fjalë në pragardhjeje që janë sythime të veçanta e të nevojshme… Fjalët e stilizuara nuk mund të kuptohen pa prezencën e gjithë ngjyrymeve sepse vetëm kështu kuptohet universializmi i fjalës, shkëmbimi i vlerës, kjo e ndërlidhur me semantikën (anën kuptimore) si dhe me rolin që lujnë fjalët në fraza, periudha, kapituj, akte, pjesë,…
Në një vepër letrare që plotëson këtë kontekst në kuptimin e vërtetë jo të fluturimit dhe të retushimit fjala zgjidhet, përsëri zgjidhet dhe kalon në një proces të rëndësishëm që quhet përzgjedhje. Një gjuhë që ka pasuri fjalësh, pasuri kualitative që sundojnë figurat, simbolet që kanë përdorim elastik siguron një përdorim kursimtativ dhe kualitativ të fjalës, e cila varet nga aftësia e shkrimtarit, poetit për t’i dhënë kualitetin dhe gjallërinë në dy kahjet e përdorimit si edhe në kahjen e qëndrimit të vetë autorit ndaj përmbajtjes së veprës.
Vepra me përzgjedhje të tillë fjalësh ka shkëlqim dhe lexuesit apo vetë studiuesit gjejnë fushë të gjerë veprimi plot nerv ku binden dhe kënaqen estetikisht. Që të arrihet në këto vepra kërkohet që vetë përfaqësuesit e botës shkrimore, ata që kërkojnë të lënë diçka, duhet të përpiqen shumë. E drejtë është se guximi apo të guxuarit në letërsi është diçka serioze, por e shton seriozitetin bukuria tërësore e veprës. Tashmë ka shumë vepra të sforcuara për të cilat autorët nuk konsultohen me njerëzit e letrave, specialistët për të dhënë dhe ata mendime. Nuk mund të rimëzojë kushdo, nuk mund të thurë vargje të shndritshme kushdo që ka dëshirë e pasion për të bërë emër… Nuk mund të bëhen vargje me fjalë të thata, prolikse në të gjitha strofat. Kësaj i thonë të ngjitësh vetëm fjalë. Kësaj praktike duhet t’i jepet fund dhe të operohet me vargje poetike plot ngjyrim për të cilët duhet të rrish gjatë që t’i provosh në rast se ke atë që quhet talent, apo dhunti! Sa e hijshme është parabola e mëposhtme: “Një bujkeshë kishte mbjellë një lloj gruri të quajtur Kutruvel që zogu ia dinte anën si ta boshatiste kallirin. Bujkesha e mbolli grurin, por kur shkoi për ta vjelë nuk gjeti asnjë kokërr gruri në kalli dhe filloi të thoshte: “Ah, more Kutruvel, ç’më bërë!” “
Ne poetët, shkrimtarët, njerëzit e letrave duhet të prodhojmë vepra të bukura, që të mbeten dhe jo të na i marrë si grurin Kutruvel zogu i çuditshëm i zhdukjes së farës. Pra, një vepër me fjalë të përzgjedhur, me forcë të madhe fjale hyjnore që këtë e jep vetëm fjala figurative, e bukur, dinamike e kukll që i flet syri e buza e bukur mund të bëjë plotimin e kësaj dëshire që e kanë gjithë shkrimtarët. Por nuk mund ta harrijnë gjithmonë se dhe potenca e fjalës ka probabilitetin e saj goditës. Nga ne kërkohet latimi i fjalës, ose siç thuhet gdhendja e saj, përllogaritja në vendosje në arkitekturën e të shkruarit ë sidomos në poezi që është gjinia më e vështirë… Shëmbëlltyrë pozitive e kësaj është përvoja e shkrimtarëve të mëdhenj, e nobelistëve.
Duhet të hiqet dorë nga dhënia apo stimulimi me çmime i veprave mediokre që ndodh shumë rëndom tek ne dhe aplikohet shpesh për të kënaqur miqësi dhe që paracaktohet qysh më parë pa filluar konkurimi i vlerës.
Shembull i pozitivitetit është juria e madhe e dhënies së çmimit “NOBEL”, e cila po të shikosh se kujt ua jep çmimet befasohesh se përcaktuese është dhe kjo që parashtruam ne më sipër: Potenca e fjalës.

*

Christaki Shabani is a writer in the area of Albanian literature, where surely he has a lot to offer to the world of intellectual thought, surpassing the narrow geographic boundaries of his own country. In this certain time of dramatic political and social developments, where Europe and specially the Balcanic regions are found literally in the eye of the cyclone of the so called New Order of Things, the deep prophetic, restless spirit of Christakis Shabanis travels in his work into a world of new dimensions. Restlessness and optimistic thoughts, uncertainty and certainty, reality and fantasy, realism and mythology, modernism and tradition are presented in a very impressive plot in his work, showing the revealing abilities and the dynamic sources of Christakis Shabanis who sends worldwide messages of very high spiritual values. Sensational love, love, justice equality, hope, are just a few of the elements that the reader may see in Christakis Shabanis’s work. The work that we are now presenting to you is just a small pre-taste of his all literal contribution as we so anxiously expect his new poems to be published in the nearby future. His work:
“The free Prophet”. “The pasture of the Nymhs”. “Man- property of three countries” and “I’m one note more on the stave”.
Athens, January 1998
Efthimios Hatzeioannou
Writor- Editor of “ATTICA LETTERS”-GREECE

*
Ο Χριστάκης Σιαμπάνης είναι ένας συγγραφέας στο χώρο της αλβανικής λογοτεχνίας, που σίγουρα είναι να προσφέρει
πολλά στο κόσμο της διανόησης ξεπερνώντας τα στενά γεωγραφικά όρια της πατρίδας του. Σε μια εποχή δραματικών πολιτικών και κοινωνικών εξελίξεων, όπου η Ευρώπη ιδιαίτερα η Βαλκανική βρίσκεται κυριολεκτικά στο μάτι του κυκλώνα» της λεγόμενης Νέας Τάξης Πραγμάτων, βαθυστόχαστο προφητικό και ανήσυχο πνεύμα του Σιαμπάνη ταξιδεύει μέσα από τα έργα του, σε έναν κόσμο «νέων» διαστάσεων. Η ανησυχία και η αισιοδοξία, αβεβαιότητα και η σιγουριά, η πραγματικότητα και η φαντασία, ο ρεαλισμός και η μυθολογία, ο μοντερνισμός και η παράδοση, παρουσιάζονται σε μια εντυπωσιακή διαπλοκή στο έργο του, δείχνοντας τις αποκαλυπτικές ικανότητες και τον δυναμισμό του Σιαμπάνη,που στέλνει πανανθρώπινα μηνύματα υψηλών πνευματικών αξιών. Έρωτας, Αγάπης, δικαιοσύνη, Ισότητα, Ελπίδα είναι μερικά από τα στοιχεία που διαβλέπει ο αναγνώστης στον Χρηστάκη Σιαμπάνη. Το έργο του αυτό που παρουσιάζουμε, είναι μια Μίκη πρόγευση, αφού περιμένουμε ανυπόμονα την έκδοση των επόμενων ποιημάτων του, ‘Ο ελευθερωμένος Προφήτης», «Το λιβάδι των Νυμφών», «Ο άνθρωπος - ιδιοκτησία τριών κρατών» και «Είμαι μια νότα παραπάνω στο πεντάγραμμο».
Αθήνα, Ιανουάριος 1998
Ευθύμιος Χατζηϊωάννου
Συγγραφέας- Εκδότης «ΑΤΤΙΚΑ ΓΡΑΜΜΑΤΑ»

Critical Article on Kristaq F Shabani’s book Humiliated Virtue ---

By K. K. SRIVASTAVA
NEW DELHI, INDIA

“For every poet it is always the morning in the world, and History a forgotten insomniac night; History and elemental awe are always our early beginning, because the fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world, in spite of History.”

Derek Walcott

Any article, critical one at that (I leave the hazards of what is meant by the word “critical writings” to the imagination of distinguished audience present here) will not start on a judicious note unless the writer of that article is sure about the relationship that exists between the background and the figure that will be the subject matter of such an article. Let me place my cards on the table. In one of the articles I wrote on the Poetry of Wendy Webb recently, I tried to explain that relationship and I reproduce the excerpts:

“The world of poetry is not a facile and straight world. It is a world characterized by hostile presence of structures, firm and high, crumbling and dwindling, having acute frustrations and severe conflicts, with perceivable areas of darkness and hidden areas of illumination, varied and skewed, but enlightening always trying to bring to the fore buried potential of words. It is a world full of dichotomies: pleasures and perils, love and hatred, gains and losses all are intermingled but unaccountably. The onus of explaining that unaccountability rests with the writers, a term that mercifully includes poets too. The word “mercifully” used here is to remind ourselves that poetry as a genre is exhibiting a decreasing trend all over the world with no big publishers as takers for poetry books and no big readership. It is really a strange world-it’s strangeness makes the texture of life of poets and it’s strangeness forms the wrap and the woof of what we call poetry: good or bad. There is really no good poetry or no bad poetry-a poem is a poem as perceived by the readers. Perception again is motivated by personal experiences and motives. The fact that even after about fifty years of their having been penned, let me take an example of a Hindi poet from my own country i.e. Muktibodh, whose poems, longer ones in particular still continue to be subject matter of a great debate and discussion as regards their real motive and meaning, speaks a lot of an unending tendency of readers cutting across all cultures to keep absorbing newer and newer facets of long existing

poems. That is one way history of literature ensures that obscurity melts away as time passes by. So aptly writes T. S. Eliot in his poem, A Note on War Poetry-

“In the effort to keep day and night together;
It seems just possible that a poem might happen
To a very young man: but a poem is not poetry-
That is a life.

………………………………………..
……………………………………….
“But the abstract conception
Of Private experience at it’s greatest intensity
Becoming universal’ which we call “poetry’

Though a poem has a life but it does not die. It dies the moment people stop reading it or looking at it. No poem thus dies or ceases to exist as no one on this earth can ever guarantee that a poem, however obscure and nebulous that might be, will never be read.”

(The whole article can be reached at www.agonia.net under Essay titled The Poetry of Wendy Webb by K.K.Srivastava)

The above citation is primarily meant to convey the general milieu about the prevailing poetic scene and the troubling contexts against which poets pen their verses. There is hardy any denying that many voices, in the humdrum world of contemporary poetry, nowadays don’t captivate us. They don’t as they have their dimensions unable to stir the conscience of readers, readers find it hard to mingle their dreams and realties as well with these voices, they find in difficult to perceive their identities as submerging into these voices. It is the “profound pleasure” that one seeks in poems, it is the “emotional tranquility” that one gropes in for in poems, it is the “bliss of solitude” that one aspires for in a poem.

Recently I have had the occasion to sate my intellectual appetite in terms of pleasure, tranquility and bliss in the form of my reading Kristaq F Shabani’ intellectually inspiring collection of poems—“Humiliated Virtue” (translated by Vassiliki Kalahani, Kostas Gatzonis). It resonates with echoes of the Greek mythology. It is a collection that addresses bigger and more versatile issues that modern philosophy brings to poets and writers, reinforced by constant cultural reorientation which in turn mixes together anxieties of modern human beings with the growing need to have a spiritualistic way of life. In brief, this collection tackles broader structures of the literature which nowadays is referred to as “post-post modernism”.

Kristaq F Shabani’ verse, like Ezra Pound’ Hugh Selwyn Mauberley (Contacts and Life) speculate about the hopelessness of a modern mind pitted against civilization’s oddities. Self clashes with self depicting the superficial problems of self-centered people and leave us amid abandonment and cataclysm. Kristaq writes in Introduction in Humiliated Virtue:

“When the tears start to fall, Virtues face humiliation.
Man that is so sarcastic asks the ENTITY
What is left from MAN;
The Entity is silent with an unprecedented muteness.
Tears only show weaknesses or do they seek their secret synonymns…”

Let us compare these sentiments from Part V of Pound’s Huge Selwyn Mauberly:

“There died a myriad
And of the best, among them,
For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
For a botched civilization…”

This volume of Shabani is one of the more completely realized and artistically accomplished volumes I have seen in recent past. The underlying elements of Puritanism in the book are it’s hallmark and there is a smoother show of violence and tenderness in his lines. ”What is left of MAN” besieges the readers with regard to hopelessness that loafers around not in the darkness outside but within. Shabani’ s all efforts as I move through his book convinces me of his astute determination to coax the light out of darkness within and then submerge it with greater conscience.

“Moments of embracement
With faces turned down
Do they sit these moments
A dring melts…it loses the name
The name that is condemned in the very deep darkness.”

Orphan in “Humiliated Virtue”

There are half - hidden images in above lines-the images that evoke a sense of formlessness but keep stirring. “A very deep darkness” is a silhouette against the stirrings of hidden light. I have reasons to find traces of influence of writings of Nietzsche in Shabani’s poetry.

“The Prophet was killed again.
The Ape is escalating, climbing upwards
The Prophet came to light once again,
During the day I read calmly and clearly.”

Everyone Becomes Whatever……

“The Gods are wounded badly
Did you see them..”

TRAP

Remember the description by Nietzsche of the market crowded with human beings, gossiping and purchasing, walking aimlessly when suddenly a naked man came running shouting “God is dead. God is dead.” And then blamed the crowd for having killed God. And the crowd, in turn, baptized that man as “mad.” For Shabani, as it was for Nietzsche, poetry is an experience that goes beyond words despite the uneasiness that accompanies being an intellectual in rebellion as Shabani is. Shabani questions through his poems rationality of thoughts which are subject matter of his imaginative game and emotional ambivalence. He questions the order, autocratic orders to which are subordinate human beings. He comes so close to Auden who writes,

“When he laughed, respected senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.”

W. H. Auden in Epitaph of a Tyrant Hand

And again with Pentti Saarikoski, the poet from Finland—

“Tyrants were
People
Who undressed
And got dressed
Worked into the small dark hours”

Invitation to the Dance

“Kings ascend and descend
From their thrones.
The “Vicars” of Bregi
In the same roles
Only that they change their cloths like masks…”

The Vicars in “Humiliated Virtue”

This is where images of past and present become one; the poet continually looking from the center of an old civilization into the prospects of contemporary life. The aura of sycophancy he abhors. Looking back at short, thought provoking poems of Humiliated Virtue one wonders if the poet has overcome ruptured images of the conflicts between good and bad or still he has to overcome these as often times we find him providing us a psychological armour to his readers to cope with their anxieties. He suggests

“the night is so endless…
A night full with fragrances
From all the colours…”

AROMAS

Kristaq is intellectually graceful, erudite, knowledgeable and dreamy. In his poems it is easy to notice thoughts disappearing into images, to appreciate his recourse to Greek mythology, to be stunned with originality and artistic exuberance of poems and above all to see “the pearls” of his literary achievements. He writes with as much passionate energy as is possible covering an impressive array of topics. His kaleidoscopic mind touches virtually everything from mundane to metaphysical, personal to political catching a variety of moods and perspectives. Most refreshing phenomenon about his poetry is that he is not a self obsessed poet and he enjoys illuminating the world both internal and external in all their radiance. Written in free verse his poems have rhythm and are lyrical, beautiful blend of time and space. He locates the self in the backwash of history and culture and portrays his feelings with the solitude of an observer. His is a voice –ample strong and eerie. Built up from details his poems are deep and intense posing eschatological and philosophical questions which I sincerely hope the honoured poets, writers and artists participating in this international symposium will address during 8th April to 11th April 2010.

KRISTAQ F. SHABANI
POETRY BOOK “HUMILIATED VIRTUES”

A short comment by Nadia-Cella Pop

For the poet Kristaq Shabani, understanding of the life and reality, in motion and clash, all these mean a pulse, a special movement.

Of course, there is a relationship between word’s wealth and poet’s personality. The poet knows things, he analyses, making a speech for his readers, poetically short, in a dialogue with human entity.
“When the tears start to fall, Virtues face humiliation.
Man that is so sarcastic asks the entity:
What’s left from MAN.”
(an excerpt from Introduction)

The poet takes colours, shapes, feelings from the real world in order to built “a jigsaw picture”. His literary work does not contain imagery, he wants to leave the pleasures of imagination to the readers. He just offers a group of elements.

“The Prophet was killed again
The Age is escalating, climbing upwards.
The Prophet came to life once again.
During the day I read calmly and clearly.”

The linguistic seekings of the poet are various, his speech is ready to be delivered to many categories of poetry readers.

Kristaq Shabani likes to be close of nature, love, classical literary works or social matters. So, we can see the intensity of his searchings, his struggle for real subjects of life.
“Hypocritical putity
usual and comical…
The fame that is achieved.”
(the poem “CONSERVATIVES”)

The fictional encounter of Homer makes him to be troubled, is a call for Kristaq to go on the read of statues, those eternal testimonies that enlighten and rule our modern world:

“Shouted to me from afar:
Wait for me…wait!
Together we’ll go on the road
that leads to the statues.”
(excerpt from “Dream”)
Kristaq F. Shabani has a register of moods and free intellectual contacts that make him to be a storyteller of thoughts and actions, in a personal manner of the diverse forms of interpretation. Without to waste poetical means, his eyes see the effects or reasons of existence and emotional touch-sometimes in harmony with “The EGO”, the tough and fiery one, in the shape of a proud man, bold and clever.
“The humiliated Virtues appeal:
OH, PEOPLE, PLEASE DON’T HUMILIATE US!”
(Introduction of the book, excerpt)
Nadia-Cella POP, Romania