The Beautiful Spaniard of Petro Marco

I have often been asked if my mother was Spanish. My answer was almost unbelievable and unacceptable to them: No! My mother is Albanian.

Many readers who were attached to that novel thought that his character, Spanish Anita Gonzales Stet, had met again after the war with the Albanian character Gori Gjileka, who identified him with Petro Marko, was forever associated with him and already lived together here forever in Albania. It was the desire of readers that this combination of two novel characters actually be realized”.

Arania Marco, daughter of writer Petro Marko, shows many readers who love father's literature, seek to find links between his life and his Spanish daughter in the novel “Hasta La vista”.

Petro was a young boy born in a village on the sea that he considered the most beautiful in the world. She was an orphan without a father since she was six years old. As a man, he experienced the consequences of war, loss, misery, wickedness, power, cruelty, humanity, weapons, friendship, torture, free speech, unuttered speech, the greening of olives, murder, and burial by olives, the silent song of the river that goes into the sea, the bloodbath that the silent pain of the sea pours, the poetry, the burial, and the poems that killed his friend, the revolt, the disappointment, the love, the family, the dictatorship, the prison, the shackles, the wounds, the wounds, the misery, the misery, the misery, the misery, the poison, the poison, the agony, the memory, the memory, the memory, the memory. At least in death the wish was fulfilled. He is gone by my arms. As long as I breath, they will not let him go. I'm talking about my father. “Viva la vida! He'd smile.

Why do my past troubles relax me? Why does the moment bother me? Why do those who are no longer human beings pass me by? Those we dreamed of and fought for the happiness of man?

These words are written in one of his pocket blocks, between the notes on Leyana in 1983. For years Petro Marcos had been denied the right to publication. It's too much of a sequence to mention the painful load of time. In a jacket pocket, he is forever accompanied by the Don Kisott “Life Line” Italian-language Unamunos, filled with subspecies. The first page of the book wrote: “Pestro Marco, who fought in Mancha, 1937-1939 with the Viva slogan la Vida”. This book when I was small by the way he held it, I thought of it the same as a sacred book. When I touched him, I felt the same admiration.

Later I read “Don Kisotin”, but edne today doesn't know why, I can't read Unamunion. I still look through it with my father's worship, watching places where I make my decisions. Here we go: page 63- “la vision comes back to what spinge ala conquista del futuro ecol legno dei recardi noi tutti armiamo la nave della duranza” Ship of hope. With the patience of memories.

Petro Marco, on November 25 of that year, had his 70th birthday. The patience of memories builds the ship of hope. Heavy is sailing in the life of a man-storve-a-war. It's heavy sailing in anyone's life. Winds that blow may force you to change direction, or they may not even allow you to leave.

When I want to revive enthusiasm, I avoid the current moment. ”- he writes. What winds blew in 1983? What about before 1983? (What winds blow and blow) Wanting to avoid the current moment, so the disappointment of the real dreamer returns to the beginning of the Great Dream. Leyania. The distance? Like time? A dream? As hope? Like war? The buried verses along with Ramiz Varvarica, a friend killed in battle, fight a resurrection.

...Leyania is the return to the start as a soldier of life, along with volunteers from all five continents, in the struggle for human brotherhood and happiness. But how far, far away was that time. Petro reinvigorated, he resumes by establishing a love that arises in flight. A love in the atmosphere of war “when taking is free”.

Amada gives Amado a cup of chocolate. They both say they come from the Universe. A boy and a girl. The Ark of Eros. There are no limits. Same ideal. Life-only sacrifice.

I remember Grandma's daily lectures and the manly songs they sang in the village. I remember the verses of Homer and Virgil, Dante and Byron, Leopard and Carducci, De Rada and Naim, Dara's, and...” keeps marking him.

Petro Marcos of his friends lamented the spirit... the warrior of the International Brigades. Freedom volunteer. Partizan. Reporter. Oett. Patriot. Internationalist. In 1947, after the liberation of his homeland, he was beaten, insulted, accused, and tortured in Albanian prison cells by Albanians themselves. He and many others.

The dream line “But it is that “in the harbor of poetry does not enter the smell of tyranny” - he writes. The winds of the narcissist tyrants - loving and destructive powers that are nothing but winds. People, people remain humans. How many were killed fighting for Human Happiness. They were killed spiritually. In a divine legend, there is only one. The “in a life-life-long drought is...so much. In a tale told, the man is but one. In life, the brave and brave are, oh, how they are!

How much did I live? So many events. Very... much! And I think: Now that I'm alone, where are my years? Where are my friends? Where are they? ...as if it listed, they're doomed. But where are they? Ask Petro Marco in his notes. In the dark days of disappointment and suffering, it reached as far as Safos, my mother, said it would have been better if he had been killed as a volunteer of international brigades, fighting and believing in his own ideal. He could not accept a false sun within the cleverly built invisible walls. It was easier to die living the dream than to see life die.

Today <x) “Lejania” was published 11 years after leaving the author's life. Please accept my sympathies today. He's gone. You can pick a few words. You can say a lot of words. It's the life of a man who lived his life in parallel with humans and history. It's my father's life. Petro Marco Yan. Freedom volunteer. Albanian. Son of the Universe”, Arania says. (gazeta-Albanian. com)