Renia's Diary
Page 14
With yearning, your beating must start
Although I don’t want this to happen
It will
You may now cry your helpless tears
But they won’t make them pity you more
Then they’ll rob you and double your fears
Since you didn’t learn about people before …
The will-o’-the-wisp will deceive you
and bend you to its will
you chase them—they run away
colorful
I found a heart
on a boundary road
a gingerbread heart
fresh, hot and lovely
a heart-shaped work of art
clapping my hands with joy
across the fields I ran
before I left the boundary road
the heart was lost and gone
Bitterly then I cried
And sighed with grief so bad
Should I look for a new heart
Or seek the one I had
I don’t know
But why am I grieving
Why did my tears even fall
Before I found a heart
I didn’t have one at all
I found it, I lost it—it’s over
I’ll visit my common sense
And say: “Make things carefree again
As they’d been ever since…”
But there’ll be a frown on my brow
Like clouds hanging over the land
Because I had that heart to heart
And felt its warmth in my hand
It smelled so alluring and sweet
I thought I felt its beat
And that’s why I’ve been crying
That’s why the sorrow and pain
For having found a heart at last
I lost it once again
Well, I’ll see, I’m in love, and he … You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 3, 1941, SATURDAY
God! Only you know what torment I have suffered during these days, what torture, it can’t be described or even retold, it has to be experienced to be understood, but it’s better not to understand or experience it. I didn’t go to that party, but at what cost! And he, I don’t know, maybe he’s having a good time, maybe he’s dancing happily, maybe he never spared a thought for me? You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 8, 1941, THURSDAY
I’d like to tell you so much, so much—nothing. I’d like to speak to you, but soberly, about the state of my soul. You know, I’m missing Mom awfully; I feel that this emotion of mine is intensifying, growing mightier. And I can’t say how much longer we’ll be separated. I so need somebody really close, someone who would care for me, a friend—a mother … And today I saw her, she came in the night, she was ill, suffering. Walking away, she said: “Renuś, I will come on June 25,” she said she’d come, so I’m waiting … I’m waiting for this symbolic dream to come true. So perhaps she will come, because Her soul was with me.
Norka interrupted my writing and I’m finishing in the evening and I won’t write what I’d wanted, because on the way I met “Him.” The lord and master of my heart and soul, the wizard whose one glance, one word or smile changes me into a different person. I succumb to the charm like one succumbs to supernatural poisonous raspberries, like one succumbs to the thorny, yet deliciously scented rose. So I take it and although it wounds me, although it draws blood from my heart, I feel I cannot give it up, because its thorns have grown into me, because if I remove them—I’ll die …
I’d thought that it’s already “pro forma,” like Olga wrote. That it is the end, and the ground is falling away beneath my feet. But now I feel that no, not yet, it’s not even reached its height yet, so why am I thinking of the end. Today’s walk and everything, was it not close—yet so delicate like the aroma of perfume in the air that one senses intuitively. I feel that I love more than any of the girls I know. Olga is in love, raving, loves with a purpose, loves an ideal. And I love a hundredfold more, to me any trifle is an enormous bleeding wound, I’m in disquiet, distress, despair … I love him and just him, an embodied ideal that I found not accidentally, and that has become my ideal … I love, I love … There’s so much studying now, there’s no time … You will help me, Buluś and God.
I love because there is May
in chords of bloom on Earth
the world around is pink
the soul is full of mirth
I love because he is a wonder
And has the strength and power
He took the obstacles down
And climbed my heart’s tall tower
I love because I’ve a will
To thunder with cascades of feeling
Because I won’t stop any longer
The flood of the love and the sting
I now know the reason I love
a head that is held so high
and eyes and the lips oh the lips …
I love because it is worth a try!
MAY 10, 1941, SATURDAY
Long live May! I’m feeling it again. We went to the movies and sat closely entwined, brow flat against brow, and … you understand? Z, “Well, I’d let you go to war,” “What will our young people be like?” “We’ll be in Lwów together…” “Will you go to Lwów with me?” And he wanted photographs from me; he said he must take them along, because all he will have will be memories and photographs. “You see, I’m poor too,” with all the bullying …
Z likes to study my poems, knows the order they’re in and threatens that he’s going to get them published. He’s generally marvelous and I love him! So much it chokes me up …
We won’t meet tomorrow, but in between the examinations we’ll be “laughing.” You will help me, Buluś and God.
YESTERDAY …
Every time it’s so similar … every time lighter, closer, and now it feels like peace, blissful peace has been sown in me. What’s left are memories, something intangible, which even yesterday I would have been able to grasp in one word, in a glance, in … Funny, darling, slightly teasing memories … (it was he who accustomed me to such views, thank you). He walked in my scarf and we haven’t got a home yet, anyway everything’s whirling in my head. What’s it going to be like later?
MAY 13, 1941
And what’s it going to be like then…? Oh, May! How intoxicating this May is, but perhaps only to me? My whole life is swelling up in me, all 17 years of it. All the emotions pile up into one heap of dry leaves and this May too, it’s like fuel poured on this heap … And it’s growing, growing, just one spark and it will erupt, flames will burst high in the sky, it will heat up and go wild like my long-imprisoned, suppressed, curbed love. Let there be a blaze, heat, fervor. Let the heart, brain, mind, body catch fire, let there be only conflagration and heat—and desire for burning, red-hot lips, desire like today, like then … like always. Desire! Damn.
Have I lost my mind? Exams soon, there are only three days left until the end of term! And I have learned absolutely nothing, I’m wandering around, daydreaming, ruminating … I’m not studying for my exams at all. I just can’t! Zygu’s eyes are green, but his lips are the most beautiful. Such amazing lips!
The lights in the houses are all out
And all the loudspeakers are now dumb
The shops and stalls are closed again
The hot day’s gone …
The footsteps stop their drum and chime
And night of silence, night of dark
upon the city makes its mark
the city finds its sleeping time
And why does May wound us all over
and tear new wounds in hearts unhealed?
why does it rouse and wake the lover
why does it burn in eyes, still filled
with April’s yearning—why, at night
does May conquer our souls by might
when nights are bright with starry dust
although the mind may think “I shan’t”
Why does this May with fields of green
keep getting mixed with dearest eyes I’ve seen
why does it swell my chest, and make me drunk and giddy
why, if this is such torture
do I still say I need it
Silly me, what do I care, this May won’t be any good anyway.
MAY 18, 1941, SUNDAY
On Friday, after school, Zyguś walked me home. On Saturday there was a row with Irka, Zygu and Maciek. You know that I feel something for Maciek now, I can’t say I detest him, but somehow it seems he’s taking Zygu away from me. Sometimes I think him passable, but sometimes horrible, foul, capable of anything. And Z is under his influence.
The school year is over. It’s passed more quickly than any other before it; it passed, it fell into oblivion, because it was brimful of love. And the school year is over—a pity … Admittedly this won’t change the love, but still, it was something that connected us legitimately, something that we shared, which concerned us equally. Well, but it can’t be said that only school connected us, well it did, but love most of all.
Irka told me that Z’s mother said that Z is in love, that he is not looking well, that she doesn’t know what’s going on with him. She was also very keen to learn something about me, see my photograph etc. So finally, some real, tangible proof that Z is in love. And I’d thought about it so, so many times, about his mother. I like her, I love her for what she said, and I also love my darling Mama, the best one, the only. And I’m not preparing for the exam even a little; I don’t know how it will go. I’ll see you on the 4th, either happy or wet-eyed. Well, until the 4th, unless … but I doubt it. Rena. You will help me, Buluś and God.
I can hardly stand it. Dear Diary, I miss you so much. I get no sleep because I’m sitting two and a half exams: for Zygu, for myself and half for Arianka. I’ve never known I could be so worried on someone else’s behalf. Zygu is awfully good to me, and then horribly jealous for no reason.
4 P.M.
No, I’m not writing down the date, what for, I wasn’t supposed to write until the 4th. Z is sitting his exams and I am so nervous I don’t sleep at night, I don’t care a whit about my own exams—am not studying. And today, God, God! Why am I so sad today, why did I do that to Z when he came? I’m awfully angry. Not angry—sad. I’m not sure why? How stupid that I stuck around for three hours, waited for the result of the task. Those girls from the boardinghouse were screaming, “Ela!” What for? Because he walked me back, and Stefa from over the way was angry that Krzyś (her love) and Waldek whistled her “Chopsticks” under my windows. But why am I telling you all this? Probably to depict the tragic state of my soul. Examine yourself what else could have made me so—aha, perhaps that bad state of mind, I’m going through a phase when I have to admit that I’m awful, downright nasty, but perhaps it’s the disappointment that I haven’t done too well with my task?
I would go far away
and leave the people behind
Maybe a sunny May stillness
will soothe me
Maybe a subtle breeze
Will cool my mind
No, I can’t clearly meet a gaze
I can’t seek out someone’s eyes?
Go far, fall asleep in a haze
let the time fly away
Leave above the earth
And follow a dream
Become a bright fragrant shade
a slender thought’s stream
and like a daydream’s mist
spread myself on the sky
caressing dreamily with smiles
to fade with a sigh
Oh to be a cloud of thought
pink and blue
pale milky-watery and orange in hue
taking the word and the gaze
to fly away
and to become fully one sweet dream of May …
10 P.M.
I’ve had the most wonderful May evening. Maybe the first romantic evening in May and in my life. We climbed up high on the hills, along paths. The San was flowing beneath our feet—powerful, glimmering, red in the sunset. And the red, slightly hazy sun was slowly descending from the sky. We talked a lot, pleasantly, and I know that our spirits were so connected that I’m not sure if any physical contact could have brought us closer. It’s hard to remember what we talked about. I only know that when I mentioned something about his reputation, he replied, “So you wouldn’t want a famous husband…?” and then he said something else and got very confused (passport, you don’t want to come to me, you can’t even control yourself, much about eyes).
Good, lovely Zyguś, although he gets angry with me about being afraid of dogs, and says that he was minded to give me a wallop, but he is perfect in absolutely every respect.
I’m really at a loss for words, so just picture silence, greenery, May, sunset and fireworks, and the two of us, in love.
But Zygu is still testing me about Maciek; does he not believe me yet? And that leaping heart? I don’t believe in that power so much anymore, “is the binding of souls not worth the binding of bodies?” You will help me, Buluś and God.
Stupid idiot Belania! Those girls are shallow and trite after all! She asked me if I’m not getting bored with Zygu yet. She gets bored with students because one can’t exchange two words with them—the countess walks away.
Despite everything I see that I am more profound than they are, I really don’t switch loves like handkerchiefs, I’m unable to talk about it in a cold, cynical manner! It’s repugnant, disgusting! To love truly, passionately, honestly, this is what I believe in, this only! I’m terrified of chemistry.
Today’s walk was—oh, nothing worth mentioning. There was company, and I always feel worse then. I will tell you I was a little jealous, but Zygu was a hundred times worse when Maciek approached, because he really had more reason to be. Anyway, I found out how they study my poems (about that explosion, about blue), aha, that linking of hands and Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” again. And those two female neighbors that he boards with, sweet boy, tender, anyway there is something very cordial about him. The evenings and starry nights are pretty, but apart from that it’s so dull, somehow empty and lonely in the world, one wants to have someone, say something. What? Why not … Zyguś. I’m mostly interested in poems now.
JUNE 4, 1941, WEDNESDAY
Done! I should be jumping up to the heavens! Everything went well, I passed everything, although I didn’t really study too much. Well then, holidays ahead of me, three long months of holidays, and also ahead of me is emptiness. I don’t know, I’ve got a constant feeling that something has evaded me, that something has ended. I’m in such a strange mood that I don’t know what to do with myself.
Zygu was wonderful yesterday. He was so pleased when I let myself be stroked by him, but not by M! But there is something strange about this Z, something different from other boys. On the one hand that’s very good, on the other—a bit bad … You know, I keep expecting events, I keep waiting, waiting for the dream to come true, and if it fades, then—I’ll leave for Horodenka—only I know, I know for sure that I would yearn something fierce … Zyguś! You will help me, Buluś and God.
JUNE 10, 1941, TUESDAY!
Zygu is sitting his last examination tomorrow! To celebrate, I’m going to wear my new navy shoes.
Today we spoke about this and that, and everything. You know, I can’t write down whole conversations anymore, never mind. One can’t write it the way it is, anyway.
Z has a sore throat, he said I should recommend something for it or only say a word and it will get better. There was talk of Salcia and Krela. And that he’s got a way of influencing me and many, many more nice things. “Well, what am I to do to you?” he said twice. I wanted to ask if we’d go to the movies tomorrow, but I did it so awkwardly that I couldn’t manage to utter a word. Z thinks that God knows what I am to say to him? I said I’ll say it tomorrow. All right, but what will I tell him, h
e thinks … yes, he thinks that. And I’d also really, really like to tell him. I love you, Zygu! But no, I can’t, so what shall I tell him? What shall I tell him tomorrow? He was making such a sweet, darling face … Zygunio, I love you so much! I love you the most! That “And whatever you prefer!”—I let it slip and got very embarrassed, but he guessed, the most wonderful wonder. I love you. Good night kisses. Renia.
I’m off to daydream. I will look at rooms and think about how the two of us will live there. It’s a dream, a fairy tale, but one can dream. You will help me, Buluś and God.
JUNE 11, 1941, WEDNESDAY
Zygu passed his final school exam today! He was so wonderful today! Very, very tender and very darling. I do want to tell him something after all. No! Honestly, today Zyguś was the way he’s never been before. No more from me!
JUNE 17, 1941, TUESDAY
I haven’t seen Zyguś in such a long, long time! I do see him, but he’s preoccupied with his graduation all the time. Tomorrow is the graduation and … my birthday. I’m turning 17. We will talk tomorrow. Actually I already know that I won’t be happy, because I won’t see Zygu at all. Today I translated a little Heine—this feels like a relief, some of the thoughts there are so “mine,” e.g.:
They both loved each other, though neither
Would love to the other confess;
They looked at each other so sternly,
And suffered their loving no less.
They parted at last and they met again
Where dreams would linger and dwell;
They died so long ago before,
But neither of them could tell.*
Perhaps this thing of ours will, however, have a happier ending.
I have a wonderful collection of my poems. Irka and Nora made it for me, I’m grateful for it. One for Zygu, I’ll write it in, but I haven’t got a rough draft. So they will be a bit disappointed tomorrow, especially that my leg’s swollen and I can’t leave … tomorrow!?
JUNE 18, 1941, WEDNESDAY
Irka and Nora got me the most beautiful leather-bound diary. I am very grateful to Noruśka and Irka and love them very, very much. Only why did she write that maybe I will be a famous poet and Mrs. Zygmunt S., and if not … then this diary will only be a very painful memory. I’m not really contemplating my life too much today, maybe I can’t do it now like I used to, and anyway—it’s not worth it. Perhaps the biggest event today was that I met the S. family. It happened by chance, but I got very embarrassed, good thing it was dark. Z found out at school that it was my birthday. I’m 17. This is not so terrifying yet, but 18 is a nightmare. I don’t know why this one year means so much. So I met them, precisely on my birthday, well … Mama, is that right? The second birthday without you. And you, are you thinking of me today? Why me…? A new phase won’t start tomorrow, no, the same one still.