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Die Zahlen auf dem Arm
Es war im Sommer – wir waren allein –
Da sah ich Großmutters Zahlen, zierlich und fein.
Ich war damals ein Kind, ward noch getragen,
War ein Entdecker, wollte viel fragen.
Legte meine Händchen auf ihre blasse Haut,
Wollt’ die Zahlen nehmen, da hat sie geschaut!
Großmutter drückte mich und seufzte lang,
Dachte wohl leise: davon würde mir bang.
Die Jahre rasen wie im Karussell ohne Sitze,
Wieder ein Sommer mit glühender Hitze.
Da sah ich wieder ihren bloßen Arm,
Berührte die Zahlen, die waren ganz warm.
Großmutter, jetzt bat ich sie mit Gier,
Auch ich möchte Zahlen, genau wie bei dir!
Sie hat nur gelächelt, hat nicht geklagt,
Hat geschwiegen, kein Wörtchen gesagt.
Die Zeit vergeht und der Sommer ist da.
Neun Jahre bin ich alt – verstehe nun, ja.
Großmutters Zahlen, konnt’ ich nun fragen,
Sind nicht zu radieren, sind für immer zu tragen?
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Ich wollte es wissen, suchte im Dunkel nach Licht:
Warum nur bei ihr – und bei den anderen nicht?
Plötzlich die Grußmutter zu sprechen begann
Sprach und sprach, sah mich dabei liebevoll an.
Erzählte von Zeiten so fern und so nah,
Erzählte von dem Volk in der Diaspora,
Vom Holocaust, von Heldentum, von Zügen,
Von Kälte, Hunger, Arbeitslager, Lügen.
Und wie sie durch Wunder bewahrte ihr Leben,
So dass sie mir heute ihre Liebe kann geben.
Diesmal im Sommer – wir waren allein –
Küsste ich zärtlich mein Großmütterlein.
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Die Nummer auf Großmutters Arm
Einst im Sommer, glücklich, unbekümmert,
bemerkte ich eine Nummer* auf Großmutters Arm
Ich war noch ein kleines Kind – das die Welt entdeckt,
Fragen stellt und beantwortet, ohne ein Wort zu sagen,
Ich berührte mit den Fingern ihren Arm –
kratzte an den Zeichen, ohne es böse zu meinen.
Großmutter umarmte mich, wünschte mir nur das Beste:
„Warte, bis Du älter bist, ich werde Dir davon erzählen“
Die Jahreszeiten nehmen ihren Lauf,
die drückende Hitze des Sommers ist zurückgekehrt,
„Großmutter!“ - flehe ich - „Lass uns auf meinen Arm
eine blaue Nummer schreiben, wie Du sie hast!“
Sie küsste mich, mir durch das Haar streichend,
ich fühlte, um mich vor etwas zu beschützen...
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Die Jahre gehen vorüber – ich warte darauf,
bin nun schon groß, beinahe neun.
Die Nummer, so vertraut, wird nicht verschwinden -
präzise eingraviert, um für immer zu bleiben!
„Warum hat Großmutter sie und andere nicht?“
… Dann offenbarte Großmutter ihr Los:
Sie erzählte von einer Zeit im Exil,
von Jüdischer Existenz – heldenhaft und elend;
von Kälte und Hunger, von Gefahr und Schmerz,
wie sie überlebte, wieder und wieder...
Als der Abend hereinbricht, sanft und ruhig -
küsste ich zärtlich Großmutters Arm.
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* Die Nummer 30910, tätowiert auf den Arm von Ester Margolis,
Überlebende von Auschwitz-Birkenau (1943-1945),
Mutter von Ella Dor-On.
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An oath of trust
Grodno, 1942
They walk in a hurry
on a cool winter day.
Looking around,
checking the way.
One is Polish, a blond,
from the village Lasky.
The other is Jewish
from the Ghetto nearby. *
They’ve grown together –
in laughter and pain.
Their roads separated
and now crossed again.
Arrive at a neighboring
village alone -
to get some supplies
in the Aryan zone.
next >>
They’re lucky –
their baskets contain
some meat, some potatoes,
some bread and some grain.
On their way back,
too tired to walk,
they rest for a while,
absorbed in small-talk.
An old Polish woman
comes out of her home:
“Hello, pretty girls!
”Where are you from?”
She gives them to eat –
as much as they please.
Then puts in their baskets
some home-made white cheese.
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Brings them some apples,
she’s kept in store.
To the one with the dark hair
she gives a bit more.
Marinka grows jealous
and turns inhuman:
“Give her no more!” –
she says to the woman.
“She doesn’t belong here –
A Jew in disguise!
While I am a Christian!
Don’t you recognize?”
Esterka turns pale
from unbearable tension.
Marinka betrayed her,
exposed with intention!
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The Germans surround them –
no way to escape!
Once they know who she is,
they may kill her or rape…
“How dare you! – rebukes
the woman with passion –
You, as a Christian,
should have compassion!
All people are equal
in the eyes of the Savior.
By treating her well
you are winning His favor!
Set out on your way!
Be faithful and mild –
Don’t break your oath
to the poor Jewish child…”
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*There was constant hunger in the Ghetto. Jewish children used to sneak out, risking their lives, in order to bring food for their families.
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The right pair of shoes
The only possessions of thousands of Jews
are a striped cotton shirt and a pair of black shoes.
These are supplied, on purpose, at random –
He who receives a size not his own
and doesn’t exchange - his fate is well know…
You must wear a shoe that is narrow and tight,
without any socks, from dawn until night.
Even at night - despite terrible pain -
You mustn’t take off and wear it again –
for the foot is so swollen and blistered and blue,
it wouldn’t fit back into the shoe.
Those who are slow, who groan, who look ill,
become easy prey for the hunters to kill.
A shoe that’s too big, too loose or too wide –
sinks in the mud, hinders the stride.
You’re bound to lose it for all that you try –
the barefooted is doomed prematurely to die…
Oh, how we wished, in dread beyond measure,
for the right pair of shoes, as if for a treasure!
A casual meeting
A casual meeting in a labor camp.
She recognizes a familiar face –
the guy who used to pull her braid…
A recollection from a different time and place!
A cotton headscarf hides a shaven head.
She looks so utterly forlorn!
Like all the women in the camp
her dress is shabby and outworn.
The wind has blown off her scarf.
She blushes shamefaced to admit it -
Her body’s thin, exhausted and in pain,
her soul - as yet - is not defeated!
Escape
Dedicated to Rudi Vrba and Alfred Vetzler
Two prisoners escaped
– an inconceivable event–
from the most closely guarded
concentration camp.*
The camp alarm is roaring.
Get out! Get out!
Form lines of five!
Run! Quickly!
Don’t tease your fate!
The dogs are trained to tear to pieces
whoever steps aside,
whoever’s late…
All prisoners are counted.
Then - left to freeze –
are brutally ordered
to stand on their knees.
next >>
Time drags on endlessly -
minutes seem - hour!
There’s no limit to terror
and the misuse of power!
Two prisoners, two heroes, escaped
in order to inform the world
of evils far beyond conception,
of crimes beyond the spoken word.
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*Auschwitz-Birkenau (1944)
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Family Album
One day I asked my Grandma,
out of curiosity that gradually arose:
– Why do you take so many pictures,
of yourself and of relatives distant and close?
– In the Second World War,
after heavy bombardment from air,
we were forced to abandon our home,
to seek shelter elsewhere in despair.
We lost our belongings –
Money, land, cosy rooms.
All that we loved, that we cherished –
letters, collections, family heirlooms.
From the whole family that perished –
parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts,
remained only one picture –
myself at the age of six months.
The photos revive time long forgotten,
they are a reminder of the flux of one’s life.
I want you to have what I’ve been missing!
I want through the photos to immortalize Life…”
Gold for Water
Winter,1943. On the way from Ghetto Grodno to Auschwitz
The train suddenly stops.
No one gets in or gets out.
Jews on the train, nerves frayed from the rattle.
They are locked in the wagons, like cattle.
Mothers are hugging their kids in despair…
Indifferent Poles on the platform don’t care!
“Have mercy, Pan!* Bring some water to drink!
What will happen to us, dreadful to think…
Look at the children! Their fate you can change!
Some water to drink!…Take gold in exchange…”
Takes the gold. Disappears out of sight.
Will he ever return? Will they see any light?
They’ve run out of time, their hope almost gone.
The train any minute may start to move on.
next >>
A miracle’s happened! Just as they go,
here comes the man with a bowl of white snow.
Like for Manna from Heaven – son, mother, daughter–
dozens of hands reach out for the water…
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*Sir – in Polish
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Good luck!
The war has ended. Free at last!
Loneliness and longing drive
her home, to Grodno.
Did anyone of family survive?
The houses are ruined.
The neighbors estranged.
Nobody knows…
So much has been changed.
She keep on searching.
Never gives up on a try.
Then someone remembers:
Rachel? A nurse in a village nearby!
Even the winter cold won’t freeze
the overwhelming tears of bliss.
Despite the storm, lest she might miss,
she rushes hopeful to her sis.
next >>
Walks alone on the slippery road…
A coachman slows down his horse:
- Get on the cart, Panienka,*
the weather is getting worse!
Climbs onto the cart.
Suddenly feels she isn’t alone –
a woman wrapped in a shawl
is slumbering while cart’s dragging on.
Ride in silence.
Then the coachman starts a small-talk:
- Where are you going? It’s too cold for a walk!
- To find a lost sister. My faith never broke!
- I wish you Good Luck! - says the man
in a voice loud and deep.
- Good Luck! - echoes the stranger
from the back, half-asleep.
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Arrive at a crossroad. Esterka gets off.
The woman jumps down, too.
The horse and the cart disappear in the dark,
leaving behind them the two.
Standing alone -
two shivering shadows,
between the black of the sky
and the white of the meadows.
- Excuse me, could you tell me
the way to the village?
- To the village… Esterka?!
- Rachel?!
- My sister!
- All those years...
They embrace each other in tears…
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Grandma Esterka lights a torch
May, 1987
Grandma Esterka lights a torch
in Jerusalem, near Yad Va-Shem ,*
in the name of the survivors of Auschwitz,
the most dreadful of all concentration camps.
Grandma Esterka lights a torch –
small, fragile, not young any more,
stands upright , so excited –
forty years since the end of the war.
The prayer of the cantor and the singing of the choir,
remind her of voices from far away lands –
some screaming, some silent…
the voices of parents and brothers and friends…
And the sound of the orchestra,
telling what words can’t express,
takes her back to the sounds
of the marching to Death…**
next >>
And the the merciful frost of the capital city
and the wind, blowing the flags of the State,
remind her of the two-thousand-year longing
of Jews, surrounded by cold and by hate…
Grandma Esterka lights a torch.
The audience watches her with affection,
while in front of her eyes burns a flame –
the flame of Gas Chambers and the flame
of Redemption.
Grandma Esterka lights a torch,
overcome with triumphant sensation.
From a distance she senses my pride
and the pride of the whole Jewish Nation!
____________________________________
* The museum in memory of the Holocaust survivors.
** The Germans used to send the Jews to their death
accompanying the marching by orchestra music.
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A Jewish child in Ghetto
A Jewish child in Ghetto,
surrounded by a wall.
Alone, without his mother,
with hands raised up, so small!
He’s marching hurt and grievous
on freezing roads, in cold.
Light coat… Bare knees in winter…
So helpless to behold!
With yellow Star of David -
a symbol of disgrace.
He’s on the verge of crying.
What fate is he to face?
So vulnerable, fragile,
in front of loaded guns,
like blameless sheep to slaughter
is led to die at once.
next >>
His eyes reflect an endless sorrow,
an endless fear of brutal deeds,
because through them at me are looking
more than a million murdered kids.
A Jewish child in Ghetto,
cries out in silent plea.
In monumental picture
implores: “Remember me!”
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Herr Doctor *
The selection has started. The doctor is here.
A routine observation from a different sphere:
Passing slowly from one to another –
a professional glance, at ease, without stress.
His finger alone, with indifferent gesture,
proclaims: right is Life – left is Death.
The check-up has finally ended –
the silence is pierced by a shout!
The doctor has given an order –
the patients are forced to get out!
A horrified girl refuses to leave -
she clings to her bed, she cries and she pleads.
The blow of a rifle on shoulder and head
stops the nuisance. She fatally bleeds.
The quiet returns. In ominous patience
The hospital’s waiting for a new round of patients…
The handsome physician in neat uniform
delights in the role of inspector.
He’s anxious to know if all’s going well.
- “We are doing our best, Herr Doctor !”
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*Dr. Mengele - Head physician of Auschwitz, known for his sadism and cruelty
as well as for his good-looks and polite manners.
On Holocaust Day
On Holocaust Day
Mom lit a candle and said:
Children –
this candle I light
in the memory of my
grandmother, grandfather,
cousins, uncles and aunts,
relatives distant and close,
who were murdered by Nazis
simply because they were Jews…
I felt sad –
shed even a tear.
I was afraid that a bad guy
might suddenly come
and kill all my family dear.
Mother consoled me:
Now we have our State,
we have our Army.
Now we control our fate!
next >>
Today Mom lit a candle.
It’s a day of sorrow – she said –
but also a day of great joy,
of hopes rising high:
for all our sufferings –
Am Israel Hai! *
And I thought -
how lucky I am
to have a grandmother,
a grandfather,
cousins, uncles and aunts
and other relatives distant and close.
And went to play in the yard…
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* The People of Israel Are alive! (Hebrew)
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You
You walk among us
the last of survivors …
Your hair gray, your faces wrinkled,
carrying a burden of memories
of your tormenting past.
Carrying it with dignity,
with courage,
with aspiration,
so that it become
a sign and a symbol
for the next generation.
You walk among us
the last of survivors …
Your body is frail,
your soul is in pain.
Yet, your spirit is strong
and your hearts filled with pride
( inexplicable to the free generation ) *
that you are alive and are the citizens
of your own Nation.
next >>
You walk among us
the last of survivors…
Your hearts overflowing
with love and with longing
for your children and grandchildren.
Love - so abundant in self-abnegation,
( incomprehensible to the Sabra generation )**
as if your whole being depends on this word.
Thus can love only those
who feel lone in the world…
You walk among us
the last of survivors…
Tied by bonds of mutual fate
and wondrous kinship,
which you have passed on,
as your last obligation,
to your children –
to the next generation.
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* People living in Israel after the establishment
of a free independent Jewish State in 1948.
** An Israeli-born is called “Sabra”.
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Without a coat in winter
In the Getto. In winter.
Two people: mother and son.
“I’ll fetch us some wood” – offers the boy –
Out of four he remained only one.
“Take a coat! It’s icy outside!” –
the mother insists with a smile.
He kisses her cheek, hesitates on the porch:
“I’m OK! I’ll be back in a while!”
…Shooting and screaming and orphan outcry –
innocent bystanders beaten and cursed.
Streets tightly blocked, houses ransacked,
Jews being caught, deported, oppressed…
Never returned. Where could he be?
Was he sent to a camp? Will he ever get free?
Outdoors - a storm, a future unclear.
Indoors – the mother is praying in tear:
“With no coat… with no gloves…with no scarf on your neck…
Don’t catch a cold, my precious, my dear!”
Wrapped in Tallit*
Every year since the War,
on the Holiest Day,**
Esterka, the daughter,
lights a candle to pray.
She lights the Yahrzeit Candle ***
and hears the ancient vow
of Jews in Ghetto Grodno,
so far from here and now.
They hope and they dream…
Despite horror and pain,
still wish to believe
in the mercy of Cain !
Every year since the War,
on the Holiest Day,
Esterka, the daughter,
lights a candle to pray.
Lights a candle and shudders
for the fate of her father,
murdered, wrapped in Tallit,
with a candle unlit…
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* The Jewish prayer shawl.
** The Day of Atonement (“Yom Kippur”).
*** a memorial candle (Yiddish for “a year’s time”).
Mother’s Love
A loaded gun… A child in fear…
The mother’s heart forebodes:
You are in danger, dear!
Behind, a shot is heard…
Her arms embrace him
like the wings of mother-bird…
Obeying the Law of Creation –
with her body alone
she protects the next generation…
Thou shalt live!
In a field owned by a Pole,
five Jewish people hide in a hole.
They wait for the food he has promised to bring –
saving a Jew was a dangerous thing!
Three days have passed, but he still hasn’t come.
They have already eaten the very last crumb.
If he doesn’t show up, if they wait any longer –
all are destined to die of thirst and of hunger!
Praying in silence, as the hours run,
the mother is hugging her little son –
a cute, clever boy, almost four.
He asks for a drink…but there is no more…
Waiting in vain – exhausted, afraid.
Between hope and despair a decision is made:
All around is a field of ripe wheat…
In the distance some windows are lit…
Like Yocheved*, the Biblical mother, facing danger ,
she would rather give him away to a stranger!
She sends him alone to the vast open land,
where someone might stretch out a merciful hand.
Go, my first born, without any clue –
lest anyone know that you are a Jew!
All I have is a blessing to give:
Thou shalt not die! Thou shalt live!
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*Yocheved – the mother of Moses in Judaeo-Christian tradition.
To save her son's life she puts him in a wooden chest in the Nile.\He was found
by the Pharaoh’s daughter who adopted him.
Precious moments
On the way from Ghetto
Grodno to Aushwitz (1943)
A.
Mother and daughter embrace.
They are silently musing-
The train’s speeding up….
Mother’s warmth feels
familiar and soothing.
“You will live! Have children!
- the mother foretells -
Overcome all the pain on the way!
With your sister in Palestine *
you will be re-united one day!”
Mother and daughter embrace…
Mother and daughter embrace
in the cold, stormy weather…
The train is still speeding
to its destination
they do not know where,
Their agonized hearts
beat with the sole expectation –
to get off this Hell …anywhere!
Alas, without knowing,
they share their last,
precious moments together.
next >>
B.
Last station - Auschwitz.
Here the Devil reigns with might:
Who is to live? Who is to die?
One - to the left… One – to the right…**
C.
Next day.
Smoke rises from the chimney high
and smell is carried by the wind,
spread all around by burning heat,
the smell of Death, of scorched meat…
“Where is my mother?
- asks the girl bewildered -
Spare me the lies!”
“They‘re burning the transport
from Grodno…” – an echo replies.
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* In 1943 the State of Israel didn’t yet exist.
It was under the British Mandate as Palestine.
** Right meant – life, left meant – death..
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A Nightmare
Esterka’s dream – a live testimony 42 years later
Tonight I dreamt about my mother.
…In my dream I see her talking to a young woman. The face of the woman seems familiar to me. My mother is standing near a bench. My heart beats strongly. I am moving towards her.
She is standing in front of me - slim and beautiful.
I want to take her home…My mind is tormented by the thought: ”Is it possible that she is standing here, in front of me?
I know she was burnt in Auschwitz and her ashes were scattered somewhere over the accursed Polish land…
She holds my hand calmly. We get on a bus together.
She pays for the tickets and meanwhile my mind wonders:
“ How is it possible? She isn’t supposed to have any money…”
I want to tell her that I will pay for the tickets. She just smiles at me - her intelligent, lovely smile - and says:
“Do you know the woman I have been talking to just now?
I asked her to introduce me to someone because it is hard to remain alone in the world…”
“ Mother! - I am calling her, but she doesn’t hear me.
“You can stay with me!…”
At that very moment a huge fire blazed up and my beloved mother was caught in the flames…
I woke up in horror and tears!
Esterka Joffe-Margolis June 10th , 1985
With perfect precision
Everything done with precision,
filed and reported on time.
Schnell! Schnell! *
– the orders are echoed –
We mustn’t waste any time!
Everything carefully thought of,
arousing their hope and their trust.
Hastening, yet, reassuring:
Schnell! Schnell! –
Labor will free you at last!
Everything counted and sorted:
Clothes, glasses and shoes –
loaded on trains for removal.
Schnell! Schnell!
Into the Gas Chambers, Jews!
Everything’s done with precision,
According to plan in cold-blood.
Obeying commands from superiors:
Schnell! Schnell!
And the earth fills with ashes and blood …
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* Quickly! - in German
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Deutsche Übersetzung
Alexander Kogan
Die Zahlen auf dem Arm
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