A Brief View by Arben Iliazi of the Poem by the Notable Author Kujtim Hajdari (Arben Iliazi is an Esteemed Albanian Poet, Writer, Playwright, and Literary Critic)

 

A Brief View by Arben Iliazi of the Poem by the Notable Author Kujtim Hajdari

(Arben Iliazi is an Esteemed Albanian Poet,

Writer, Playwright, and Literary Critic)

The poem "Under the Common Roof" by Kujtim Hajdari, a hymn to tolerance for our correction, we always need a mirror. Kujtim Hajdari's poem "Under the Common Roof" is a powerful psychological trial that employs a more realistic perspective than the exalted optimism of the Illuminists. The world is in pain, with humanism and tolerance almost entirely absent and optimism a mirage. The poem conveys a clear message about how we should behave toward ourselves. As eternal givens, we have needs, namely, pain. Like every human activity, happiness too is the suppression of a need... of a pain. Into this category fall not only visible, real sufferings but also those desires whose restlessness disturbs our peace, making us feel the weight of our miserable, futile, and worthless existence. How difficult it is to achieve this when, as the poet says:

”In the end, we all sleep,

beneath the same shared roof of stars,

under the covers that chance grants us,

under the ceiling of time that follows us

and laughs,

for one day, we will go and leave everything

here.”

The poet adapts sufficiently by emphasizing

that tolerance is a shield against the common fate and that the perfect person

in the world is the one who does not hesitate and never becomes contemptuous:

”And Tolerance, friends, is not silence,

nor clashes - it is acceptance,

a bridge that keeps us from burning,

not to bite each other.”

Therefore, man must immediately adapt to the

inevitable need, do everything possible, endure calmly, not weaken the strength

of the spirit, but find happiness within the bounds of the possible and the

impossible, as a possibility awaiting realization, which can prepare us for

endurance and may prove more powerful than truth:

"Let our minds and hearts be open

windows,

a wide gate, without waves,

a blossoming harbor,

a toll-free road.

Let our differences be like rivers,

that do not drown each other out of hatred,

jealousy,

but meet fraternally in a sea of dignity."

For the poet, intolerance is a waste of time

and the source of our great pains, standing above all misfortunes. Therefore,

we must never be compelled by human conditions and must be convinced that human

existence is generally a painful fate and subject to tolerance. Otherwise, we

must relinquish part of the vital forces of the future, part of our life.

Throughout the poem, a true and pure sorrow

is painted, along with a hope that interpersonal relations will adapt to the

roles that conventions have bestowed upon them and to the values that apply to

all. And for the poet, the highest value cannot simply be that perfect

organization of vital and economic values, but what is generally called by the

name of happiness. And happiness is not a prisoner without salvation, caught

between individual selfishness and the collective mechanism, to make humanity

rest in intolerance and instinctive uncertainty. Such creations believe in the

coherent fiction of a world, like a refined spectacle with many spectators, with

truths that are true for everyone and with love for the universal and for the

elevation of man, against the advice of life's selfishness and the universality

of a world of persons who possess no means to govern spirits. The creative

thought of K. Hajdari is precisely opposed to this decline.

UNDER

THE COMMON ROOF

(By Kujtim Hajdari)

We all live under a common roof,

all of us on this small globe of the

universe.

*

We live in this world and share this ceiling,

where a thousand mirror of culture cross,

where numerous beliefs reflect—and give off

a human light,

where each of them tries to open a window of

goodness,

toward our common roof,

to throw more light,

into the hidden room,

of the human soul,

to bring their own reflection,

a new gleam.

*

Some take this reality as a flame,

burning in the palms of their hands,

as a glass that can shatter,

and often they feel themselves to blame.

Others see it as a flag,

as a second garment of ornament,

and in the crowd,

the air becomes a storm of voices,

an arena of thunder,

a river of noise.

And sometimes a storm of clashes for freedom,

*

Thus, time calls us toward tolerance,

rests its hands on our shoulders—friendly:

Tolerance, friends, is not silence,

nor clashes - it is acceptance,

a bridge that keeps us from burning,

not to bite each other.

It’s a dialogue - collaboration,

a weaving-together of our torn map of

thoughts,

an open door in a hard winter,

inviting the lost traveler covered with snow.

*

It is the skill of drinking from unknown

wells,

of feeling rain in someone else’s eyes,

of hearing music in foreign footsteps,

without thinking of the cup of hatred and

poison,

without looking crookedly at different

colors,

but seeing them as mirrors that reflect

human love,

as a voice that calls for warm brotherhood.

*

Tolerance asks for love and compassion.

It is like a second heartbeat,

like a pair of borrowed lungs,

like a warm lamp set at another person’s

gate.

It enters another life with friendliness—

like bare feet on holy ground,

like a careful guest,

like a slow hand over a frightened animal—

asking, and offering help, not demanding:

“Where does it hurt you?”

“What have you suffered?”

“Why does the dark frighten you?”

“What name do you give inequality?”

*

Evil, friends, begins as something small:

from a blind conviction,

from carelessness,

from a word thrown like mud.

Then it irritates like a pebble in the

mouth,

like a needle behind the tongue,

like a thorn hidden in a shirt sleeve,

and it grows and runs like a rabid animal,

it conquers like fire,

it wounds like a knife that becomes a sword,

when we leave a person in shadow,

when we see them as a statue,

when we put them in the crosshairs,

when we label them many ways,

when we trample them underfoot.

*

To not honor humanity is a kind of

blindness:

to paint the world with a single color,

is a deaf hymn,

a lone, limited sky in pain—

as if differences were cracks and wounds,

as if they were pollution, like weeds—

instead of seeing them as enrichment, as

lifeness,

as a new line, another window to look

through,

as space to taste life more.

 

*

So let us become gardeners of the spirit,

lamplighters and beacons for living,

cartographers of mercy.

Let us grow our sense of safety

toward a wider horizon,

a warm light in our eyes,

a gentler chair,

for one more place at the bread table.

*

Let our words come like a spring rain,

like warm bread,

keeping our hands open—

not to win,

but to mend,

to cool boiling blood,

to carry our brotherhood

everywhere in the world.

*

In the end, we all sleep

beneath the same shared roof of stars,

under the covers that chance grants us,

under the ceiling of time that follows us

and laughs,

for one day, we will go and leave everything

here:

wealth and odds and ends—

we will take with us only the painful words:

“Rest in peace!”

*

Let every heart become a house,

where wounds will find a shelter for

healing.

 

Our life is a note we are writing—

a brief journey we must live,

a thin light we can lose,

a thread we can snap so easily,

then suffer even beyond that.

Let our minds and hearts be open windows,

a wide gate, without waves,

a blossoming harbor,

and a toll-free road.

Let our differences be like rivers

that do not drown one another out of hatred,

jealousy,

but meet fraternally in a sea of dignity.

Let them be a broad breath for everyone,

the beloved light of our commonness,

under the common roof - our Earth.

(Kujtim

Hajdari)