Phew, I got it out of my system. But even if I filled this diary to the last page, I wouldn’t extinguish all of this fire raging in me. That other May was so very different, so much more subtle and romantic. This one, this one is wild, but it’s this one, the untamed, wild one, the earthly one that’s the most true and most delectable! How do I know?! Do I? I can’t stop writing. Just like I couldn’t part with Zygu. So much, so much … love overflows in me.
Tittle-tattle
What a chatter
about love, spring, May, some other matter
About color red and green
in somebody’s eyes shimmering
About the morning dawn’s hue
Listen, Renuś, it’s all for you.
You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 9, 1942, SATURDAY
This morning was so sunny, like a proper spring. The sun woke me up and as soon as I opened my eyes, I thought about seeing Z. And the sheer thought made me so happy that I wanted to see him then and there. I got dressed an hour too early … Doesn’t matter. Finally we were walking together, holding hands like “two well-behaved children.” No, it really was sweet and when I write this, I don’t want to write the rest. Because when I started ruminating, a thought came to me that he’s a bit patronizing, that he kindly allows me to love him (I didn’t say he doesn’t love me, I didn’t say that at all), but sometimes he looks at me as if he wanted to say, “Let the child have fun.” And when he notices that I’m all … well, springlike, then I have a feeling he thinks himself better and wiser. For example yesterday he said, “I will give you one more kiss and off you go.” And it came to me that this is something a girl usually says. But whatever, let’s assume that I love him like a boy loves a girl. And anyway, when I said that our miss is so direct, why didn’t he want to look me in the eye? Perhaps it’s only on my side? Ah! I must shake it off. I must! This stumbling is terrible. I know what it did to Anna Karenina and Anna Fülop.
I felt so fantastic in the morning and he said, like he hasn’t for a long time, he said, so sweetly and brightly, “Bye, poppet.” Aha, this was the so-called (self-) confidence that the sun shone for me! It must be because of the war, but the war’ll surely end soon. Zygmunt says there’ll be an offensive from the West, in France. He said that a long time ago, but he’s convinced it’ll happen now. Well, let’s see if he could be a diplomat. Springlike bye-byes … You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 9, 1942, SATURDAY
The spring appearance materialized. But I know what I wanted to write about. Something’s bothering me. It was terribly delightful. We started talking about a complex and again I felt small, unimportant, helpless. I felt very sad. Good that Zyguś put it down to unusual times.
I’m sad about not seeing anybody, I’d like to invite Norka for the whole day, but I can’t and it’s not up to me. I feel she’s angry at me.
The job’s not working out either. I have to go there the day after tomorrow and I’m very scared.
Zyguś is lovely, but … Listen, Rena (just between the two of us), aren’t you by any chance jealous of this Zosia? No, why would you think that?! But something’s the matter. Perhaps I’m envious of her self-confidence or the fact that she has him all the time, always, all day long and I’m left with such emptiness, like now … I got so attached. His condescension is still apparent, even more so now. “You are already thinking of a little house” and in general he says, “More and more.” And he thinks that I … He doesn’t even imagine how bad this longing can be, this longing for the person closest to one’s heart. One can pine like that, I pine like that—but not all the time. And then I feel bad. I have decided to get it under control, not to say it. Not to say that I miss him so much, so as not to make him look down on me the way he does. Whatever happens, not to say it all. It is annoying, even to me, that he knows. But he knows how to mitigate it. He’s so becoming when he says that we’re children after all.
I wrote it all down, but I don’t feel relieved. Maybe a bit. I’m still so-so. I can’t even daydream, like I did in the morning. And it was so good to daydream in the morning! I’ll write after work, which scares me so much. I believe in You. Surely You will lend me a helping hand. You will help me, Buluś and God.
I have been also thinking about the insignificance of life in the face of eternity. It calms me down. I didn’t write down the date, as I was supposed to write tomorrow. But I have a terrible urge to write today, or to speak to somebody.
This morning I did some thinking and I wrote a letter to Mom, but neither calmed me down, on the contrary. I feel like it’s terribly cold and stifling at the same time.
Today I thought about working incognito in the countryside, for example as a farmer, about experiencing only physical labor and not thinking at all. About feeling the work in my bones and muscles, about understanding the carefree calm in peasants’ life. What am I supposed to do? Something torments me all the time. Recently I’ve been tormented by the idea of Zygu loving me more than I love him and I was feeling guilty about it. Now I think that I love him more and somehow more fiercely than he loves me. And so on, and so forth. And life’s so simple. I just complicate it terribly. You will help me, Buluś and God.
10 p.m. I need to write again. Earlier I worried unnecessarily, now I have a reason. Ghetto again. Oh, God! How much can we take? Who knows where we’ll live and how? You have to pay through the nose for everything. We used to sit here in this room with Zyguś and caress, hug each other, and now it’s all getting ruined again. But I believe, I feel that nothing bad will happen. Lord, listen to my pleas that I bring to You every day.
I went to Nora’s, on my way back I bumped into Julek and Lidka. They were walking together. This really unnerved me; I was disgusted and sickened. It was so insincere. I don’t know whether to tell Nora. I think I will. I’m glad it’s Monday tomorrow, I want to share my worries with Z. I can’t live without it.
I will give you all the flowers
Just love me, my dear child
Nightingales’ musical shower
Will meet you by your hut
My tears’ stream will emanate
Meadows in bloom by the forest
And my deep sighs will create
Nightingales’ nightly chorus
Bye, Zyguś, bye, Mama, I’m so scared of this job. Lord God, help me tomorrow and always … You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 11, 1942, MONDAY
Thank You, Miraculous God. The job isn’t so terrible. I spent the day with Nora today. We talked all day long. We understood each other, we always understand each other easily. But her attitude to love is different, light, while mine is serious. She says that will make me unhappy. Perhaps, but I know I can’t do it any other way. About the complex too. Yes, Nora, if we learn to dance and if we dance well, all will be well! After this conversation, I was exhausted and had a headache.
One shouldn’t think or talk about it, Z is right. Z, my heart, has read you. I’m angry! This truly is the end. But we need to talk about this issue; it isn’t our fault, but spring’s. And this ghetto, this situation, this war … Bye, I will be working and I won’t write often. You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 12, 1942, TUESDAY23
Recently when I feel bad, I write, and when I feel good, I write. I must write. Listen! Listen to me and understand. Some kind of fever has taken over the city. The specter of the ghetto, already forgotten by everybody, has returned. And it’s even more dreadful than before, because it knocks on the doors of petrified hearts and it’s ruthless, it doesn’t want to go away. Yesterday it scared me too, but today—no. Nothing can touch me today. I’m glad I’m crying now, when nobody can see me. I shouted today, “Oh, God, I want the moment to come when they take me away!”
No, I don’t want that! Lord, forgive me. But my soul was so embittered that I felt like maybe that would be for the best. Mama writes to us saying that children are being taken away into forced labor. She told me to pack. She wants
to be with us and at the same time she wants … ah! They are splitting for good. Mom wants to send Ticiu an official letter asking for divorce. And us … well, what’s the point of writing about it—it makes me blubber terribly and turn on my waterworks. In this terrible whirlwind of the war we have neither mother nor father. The turmoil of life has taken us to some terrible crossroads. We are left on our own. They’ll never patch it up. Mama will remarry and I will never, ever again come to the door of my parents’ home. My mother … Her husband will be a stranger, a foreigner. And father, oh! He wrote to me that he was not sure if he would ever see me again! Ticiu, you are an unlucky Jew, just like me, locked away in the ghetto. Holy God, can You save me? Can You save them? All of them. Oh, please, work a miracle!
Such a heavy mood at home. Bimba is stressed, overworked and exasperated. She torments herself. She suffers because of children, because of her husband and relatives. One can’t even laugh in the house because of that. And they keep reminding me that I’m at their mercy.
Life is so miserable. Miserable, ugly, evil, but my heart still fills with sorrow, when I think … will I die? What awaits us in the future? Oh, God Almighty! So many times, I’ve asked You and You’ve listened to me—please bring an end to our misery. I feel better now; it’s so good to have a cry. What hurts the most is them. Indeed a long time ago already, indeed always, but … still. People say now that food’s the most important thing. I’ve had a good, filling dinner—and I feel so terrible. I’m not hungry, but I’m hungry for somebody’s caring protection.
And Zyguś? Yes, that might be why I don’t want to say goodbye to life. Mama, don’t hold it against me. I know it would be a terrible blow to you, but you are going to have your own life now. You might even have more children. And my grandparents are old and tired, they deserve a better old age. Sometimes I just want to ask why we were forced onto them? But now I am so exhausted. I didn’t really count on us having a home together in the future; I just had this timid, naïve dream. I’m not really disappointed, I just looked around at the world and it scared me with its emptiness. Nobody! Is there really nobody close? And Mama, so dear, is always so far away, and will be with some man who is a stranger to me. I’m not crying anymore. The man I will be with will be a stranger to her. Life brings people together and then separates them.
With passion they squabbled and scuffled
feathers got ruffled
they tore their little nest
to pieces and still didn’t rest
down was scattered around
quill, blades of grass and chaff,
hay too in all this riffraff
they told each other words that were sorest
and flew into the forest
to look and roam
for new homes
forgetting, both of the birds
about their two chicks
left on their own in the sticks
MAY 15, 1942, FRIDAY
Today is a memorable day. I’ve received the first money I earned. I’m very proud of it and I don’t know what to spend it on. I’d like to send it to Ticiu. I’ll see.
Imagine, he came today. I was so happy. So, so much. It was my dream to see him today and he came. My beautiful Kokośka, my Zyguś. He’s the sweetest. My daddy. He was my shoulder to cry on for a bit. Oh, he understands me so well, like nobody else in the world. And, you know, indeed he understood, as I knew he would. He told me that he can’t worship me all the time like some goddess, that he’s not a perpetuum mobile and this and that. And I think sometimes, for example today, that I am indefatigable and that this miss doesn’t show herself in her entirety at all. Great Lord God, You know how much I like hugging him, snuggling next to him, being cuddled by him. It’s so lovely, so delightful, so sweet. Everything is easier and cozier when I’m with him. Bye-bye, dear Diary, so many new sensations, good ones, I think, thanks to you, who “leads me into the unknown.” You will help me, Buluś and God.
SATURDAY
For you I waited
in the evening with bated
breath, with the door ajar
by brightly shining stars
their color was the sweetest
and the flowers’ caress was the deepest
their fragrant grace
gave the coziest embrace
May breeze whispered to the moon
that my beloved will be here soon.
The evening’s hum was gone
its wings slid across the nightly sky
the flowers and stars withered in front of my eyes
You didn’t come, unfortunately.
Sorrowful is the last gaze
into the distant haze
sorrowful is longing
for love and bonding
and somebody’s extended hand
to say goodbye in the end
Sorrowful is such a long, futile wait
like today at the gate.
Everything was so pretty
flowers and all the sweeties
goodbyes and handshakes
like the words of a banal song
out the window as if wrong.
A platform, noisy and busy
then the rattling and wheezing
of an arriving train
a window open again
in a carriage
a heart broken in the chest
tears barely swallowed at best
and the train and me and YOU …
Golden oranges were beautiful
as were words of farewell
and pleading looks and a sigh
The most beautiful was this one word,
an ordinary word—goodbye.
I’m so very sad. You help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 18, 1942, MONDAY
“The world is so lovely and I’m feeling good”—this is what I wrote to Buluś. Oh, so so good! Today made up for the Saturday waiting. It was so delightful, so May-like, so springlike! May is such a wonderful month! Zyguś is divine and love’s beautiful! It’s hard to part. And those caresses … Ooooh, I might see him tomorrow.
It’s nice at work. Norka has a problem with Julek. I feel very sorry for her. Z’ll see her tomorrow. Bye-bye, dear Diary. I send you kisses, just like I kiss and hug Zygu. You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 19, 1942, TUESDAY
My Mama has written a letter. So heartfelt, so lovely. I’m feeling so good and I’m so moved. She says she loves Zyguś. Oh, it’s so so so good, Mama. She has called me from afar in such a sincere way, with such warmth. I need to respond to this cry of the mother’s heart. She told me about her worries and joys, about her hopes. Poor her. Lord God, please protect her and carry my blessing to her. Sleep well, Dear Mama. God is looking after us.
Noreńka came today. She’s in a terrible state. Irka and Lida are getting back to themselves. I can’t write about it, it’s disgusting. When my beloved Zyguś mentioned him, I felt sick. Of course it’s fear. He sometimes jokes about it too. But, you know, we talked about Julek’s “involvement” (it’s all because of the involvement) and then I thought that Z, as lovely, close and real as he is, is also afraid of it. He’s afraid of words. He either doesn’t want to say too much or is evasive. And I still blush. For example today, couldn’t he say to this stranger, a soldier, “Das ist meine Braut”?* I’d say it for sure. But there’s something else here; this is an emergency.
In the meantime I fall even more deeply in love with him. If I can, I’ll rekindle the relationships with my girlfriends, otherwise I’ll become a recluse.
I feel very sorry for Nora, it must be so hard for her to see us together. But truth be told, “The replenished understand not the pain of the starving.” And perhaps I don’t feel as sorry for her as I’d like to. I don’t know why, but I do think it’s her fault too. Well, what matters is that Mama stays safe and I and Zyguś remain in love and … I can’t, I’m blushing, this morning was so wonderful. Good night. You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 20, 1942, WEDN
ESDAY
I’m so selfish, it’s unbelievable! I have to write every single day. Even if it’s just a few words. I have to repeat that I love him, because I don’t know where it ends and where it starts. Yesterday I was a little bit angry. But think, Z came to pick me up from my job at the factory and we walked holding hands. Orchards are in bloom, May is shining with its blue skies and I’m shining, too, with joy. That’s how I feel, I really feel like his little daughter and I like it oh so much!
Zośka works for the regiment. I told Malka about miss, but only in general terms. She’s a very nice, sweet girl. I was really happy. Bye-bye, we might talk soon … You will help me, Buluś and God.
MAY 21, 1942, THURSDAY
Oh, the dream, the dream, the dream of youth! I’m tired, so very tired. It’s a wonderful May night. So fragrant. The sky’s navy blue, but I’m not allowed to get too emotional, because when I think of … Grrr …
Zyguś was terribly amused today, he was laughing and ready for jokes. Sometimes I think he jests on purpose, because he’s embarrassed of himself. But I get embarrassed when he reminds me that I … well. He said that he was quite serious about it; that he’d like to put me to bed, to take me with him (it was on the platform). Why does he say those things? Well, let him, I actually like it very much. Let him say it, let him kiss me, let him love me, love me, love me! After all! Is it true? Ah, how lovely Klaus* is, really, how about it? I think it would be the height of happiness. I’m so silly. But still I want and that is that …
Renia's Diary Page 25