Uncle Raga

By: Albana Beqiri

He was always in a hurry for somewhere… with that self-deliberate step of his. Never breaking his heart, smiling even when he was probably crying the most, uncle Ragë (Ragip Sylaj) - as we all called him - hurried the most to the "Ministry of Buses", as he called it with his humor thin and brilliant, his daily journey from Pristina to Suhareka. The sadness that sometimes invaded his appearance and his portrait all in disarray, went so well with the kindness and wisdom that characterized him.

He was one of those people that if you made him a friend, you had him forever. Willing to be sad for you whenever you were in need (I always thought that sadness and worrying about other people's troubles was another of his masters, like writing and creative humor), just as willing to, with his characteristic humor, to ease his worries and worries, uncle Ragë with his humanity seemed like the last of the Mohicans in the type of good and wise people.

Poetry flowed from his kind and sensitive soul, while his brilliant humor made him be himself, even at that time when it was difficult to keep his spirits up. Poetry was his salvation, while humor was a kind of escape from everyday worries.

He was a single-minded friend who calmed the day with his characteristic wisdom and humor that no husband had.

The void he left among his friends is palpable: even after a year of his passing, he is fondly remembered. He will be commemorated on the anniversary of his death, as he himself would have liked: by reading his poems. A meeting of friends who loved him and loved him so much and who miss him every day. Of course he sees us from Heaven and misses us too. It protects us from up there.

On Tuesday, July 30, at the National Library of Kosovo, starting at 16:30, a poetic tribute to reread and remember the friend and poet with high sensitivity, Ragip!

May your soul rest in peace, my friend, may you be in a better world than the one you left!

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OH MY LIFE

Poetry by: Ragip Sylaj

I woke up and went
And I took the shadow with me
I hope you don't leave me
With the conviction that you are not mocking me
My living shadow

When the sun is at the zenith
And tell the truth
The Shadow of Life emerges
That closes the door to death

Guardian angels come
With white promise
To pierce the terror of my fear
Before the next one

Then the lucky star
Like a morning star
It greets me with the living light
And he asks me: Where are you?
That you appear and disappear so rarely

Ah, I lived in song
I breathed in a dream
Time as a warrior
Next time as a groom
I traveled in thoughts
I rested in memories
Better to understand
Deeper to love
Oh my life