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Death, this magnificent Lady!
2025-08-23 18:27:08 / EDITORIAL
There are a few rare cases where the little man, or the self-proclaimed great man, crumples, shrinks and suddenly comes to his senses!
Because Death appears!
Proud and with a far-reaching gaze, bending over the body and the frowning faces, the false grandeurs of its future victims. And the hounds feel like hounds and not any other animal.
And the cobras feel like cunning and treacherous vipers, low-headed and dwelling in secret holes where they weave plans for future poisonous bites…
And the holders of power are stunned and feel like Nobodys when they look into the eyes of the Black Queen.
This majestic Lady who one day will be imposed by Divine Justice on the hypocritical vampires of everyday life, well-hidden and compacted behind expensive suits and collars.
They, supposedly in mourning, parade with their heads bowed, at the funeral, beside the Magnificent Lady, the Black Queen, with their hands adorned with golden rings, which peacefully hide the blood stains that cannot be washed away.
She stands above the head of the next traveler to the Other World and watches them all as the Eagle watches the rodents of my Country.
And the Queen, who plays like the breeze in that mixed log, hears their silent prayers, to postpone as long as possible the meeting with her, the Incorruptible Absolute!
But She, the Majestic, continues to play like the breeze, above that buzzing of ants, snakes, and hyenas, and sweetly caresses only those who truly suffer for the deceased whom She has come to take with her...
I felt this perception when contemplating the State Funeral for Ismail Kadare on his journey between two Worlds.
The witty and ironic writer, virtuoso and reclusive for most of his life, recently watched many of the characters he had mocked and ridiculed line up at his funeral.
In truth, this is the terrible revenge of the microworld, against those who have ignored them while they are alive, coming to their funeral, disturbing the peace that is needed in these cases.
That's why I deeply understood Helena Kadare, who pushed aside the crowd of numerous Hichas, in the brief moments of separation from her Ismail.
Whoever understands, understands.
Whoever doesn't understand, it's none of my business!/ *The writing was published after the death of the prominent writer Ismail Kadare
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