Only 27 years old was our great poet Milos Gjergj Nikolla, or as he is known by many readers with his pseudonym Migjeni, when he closed his eyes to Italy’s Tore Felipe on August 26, 1938, but left a handful of pearls unrepeatable in the treasury of culture to our national. Those few “free” banners, flagged bombs, disrupted the regime of the time, and hastened to stop their author, being deceived in the village. But instead of subjecting the poet’s heart, I spit even more, exactly there. With so much pain and strength, he wrote “Luli i Vocërr” and raised in the pedestal of democracy, the babe choked by the fever that killed and kills in the mahogany’s hut. The young poet died in August 1938 to move to eternity to become an ideal, especially for our time, lacking ideals.
