Family histories from former Jewish communities of Mlyniv, Ukraine

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Translation of Diary 3 (November 1916 – May 1917)

A wonderful, annotated critical edition of the Hebrew Diary was released in 2015: Yitzhak Lamdan’s Diary. 1914-1924. Edited by Avidov Lipsker. Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2015. The original diary was written more than 70 years ago and has entered the public domain. Permission to translate the critical edition and notes was authorized by Avidov Lipsker via email in October 2025.

The translation of Lamdan's diary entries in his third diary follows below or you can return to the overview, the concise summaries or the interpretive summaries of the diary entries.

Diary 1 (June 1914 - September 1914) | Diary 2 (July 1915 - March 1916) | Diary 3 translated below | Diary 4 (January - December 1919).

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Diary 3 (November 1916 – May 1917)

December 1916 (Baranovka, Russia)
December 6, 1916 | December 11, 1916 | December 18, 1916 | December 26 [25], 1916 (Hanukkah) | December 28, 1916

January 1917 (Baranovka / Pryluky)
January 8, 1917 (Baranovka) | January 10, 1917 (Baranovka) | January 16, 1917 (Baranovka) | January 30, 1917 (Pryluky)

April 1917 (Pryluky / Novohrad Volinskyi)
April 1, 1917 (Pryluky) | April 8, 1917 (Passover / Novohrad Volinskyi) | April 20, 1917 (Novohrad Volinskyi) | April 25, 1917 (Novohrad Volinskyi)

May 1917 (Novohrad Volinskyi)
May 2, 1917 | May 11, 1917

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The Context of Diary 3

Yitzhak’s next diary, called Diary 3 in the critical edition, begins on November 8, 1916. Seven months have passed since his last entry on March 29, 1916 in his second diary. Much has happened in the War to change his personal situation and bring him to Baranovka [Baranivka, Ukraine] where he finally was reunited with his family.

In December 1915, Russia and the other allies (France, Great Britain, and Italy) all committed to launch simultaneous attacks against the Central Powers in the summer of 1916. Known as the Chantilly Agreement, the goal was to relieve pressure on the Allied forces in the Western Front by reviving pressure on the Eastern Front. In March 1916, around the time that Yitzhak’s second diary was coming to a conclusion, the Russians launched a failed offensive at Lake Naroch in the area of Vilnius (now Belarus). The failed effort was intended to relieve German pressure on French forces at Verdun.

Beginning in June 1916 and continuing through September 1916, the Russians mounted a major successful attack against the armies of the Central Powers known as the Brusilov Offensive.^[*] Named for Russian General, Aleksei Brusilov, who presented the plan for the massive offensive, the effort was launched on June 4, 1916. Brusilov chose the 8th Army to spearhead the capture of Lutsk which was accomplished by June 8 in what is known as the Battle of Lutsk. The area around Hubyn Pershyi where Yitzhak was living was retaken not long after the Battle of Lutsk, probably between June 8-15, 1916, as the Russian advance continued. The operation continued through the summer, resulting in further Russian gains in the battles at Czernowitz, Kovel, and Brody before the operation finally stalled before retaking Lviv.

The Brusilov offensive had far-reaching effects inflicting irreparable losses on the Austro-Hungarian army and relieving pressure on France and on Italy. The significant human and material losses on the Russian side would contribute to the onset of the Russian Revolution the following year. Overall, Austro-Hungarian losses reached about 1.5 million men, including 400,000 prisoners, and roughly 25,000 square kilometers of territory. By September, Russian resources were depleted, and the offensive ended on September 20, 1916.

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Yitzhak’s Whereabouts During the Brusilov Offensive

Nothing is known from the diaries about Yitzhak’s whereabouts during the summer of 1916 or the Brusilov offensive. Yitzhak ended Diary 2 on March 29, 1916. Unfortunately, his first dated entry in what the critical edition calls Diary 3 is November 8, 1916. Yitzhak is by then already in Baranovka [Baranivka, Ukraine] reunited with his family, 260 km east of Hubyn Pershyi.

We can assume that not long after the Russian liberation of Lutsk on June 8, 1916, Yitzhak and his brother Moshe were able to reestablish communication with their parents and sisters who were living in Baranovka and to make their way there. Unfortunately, no diary entries or notebooks exist from this period in Yitzhak’s life and we don’t know how he reconnected with his family, how he made his journey to rejoin them, nor do we get to witness his gamut of emotions as the tide of War changed and he found himself able to leave Hubyn Pershyi and head to his family. It seems likely that Yitzhak was writing during this period in a notebook which is now lost.^[**] What is now called Diary 3 begins mid-sentence indicating that it was at least part of a preceding entry and probably a missing notebook.

Dramatically, in the first full entry in Diary 3, Yitzhak is standing at the deathbed of his mother listening disbelievably to her final words.

Notes

[*] [Translator's comment:] On the Brusilov Offensive, see Michael S. Neiberg and David Jordan. The Eastern Front:1914-1920. Chapter 3. London: Amber Books,2011 and Norman Stone, The Eastern Front 1914-1917, New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1975, especially Chapter 11, pp. 284-324. [HS] ↩

[**] [Translator's comment:] On the possibility of a missing diary, see "Introduction," [Hebrew] by Avidov Lipsker, Yitzhak Lamdan’s Diary, pp. 16-17. [HS] ↩

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Diary 3

[page 1 of diary]
[previous page missing]...the months, on all, on all. After it all … for my spirit to rest for an hour my head in your lap and sleep for a short hour and forget all the hardships that surround me now. Yikes, who knows, knows, if I will be fortunate to meet with her!^[1]

Notes

[1] These lines are the continuation of a missing diary. The top part of the page is writing and blurry, from wet stains and tears, and what is written isn’t possible to decipher. ↩

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November 1916

[November 8, 1916]^[2] Wednesday, 12th of [the month of] Cheshvan, in Baranovka, Russia [now Baranivka, Ukraine]

From whence arises the courage placed in the heart so it doesn’t explode! From whence comes that same iron patience that doesn’t break from all the pain?! – I don’t know. The cruel reality knows to deliver a blow to the heart and severe and terrible wounds, and together with this strengthen and temper it [the heart] so I am able to bear all the pain and grief, [and] so You [God]^[2a] are able to expand its hardships many times over – terrible times like these that we have now, the terrible tragedy like this that bears down on us, and the heart hardens like iron – and does not explore, and also a tear, a warm tear, is impossible to shed or [also] a blood-curdling cry that penetrates to the heart is impossible, the well of tears has dissipated. My God! My God! What harm have you done to us? How long until you remove Your terrible hand of fury from us? “Stand here by me my beloved father and son, stand beside me and weep, weep for your great shattering, for the great loss of what you are losing and that which has no replacement” thus Mother ”(lit. “the mother”)^[3] summoned me and father when we stood by her bed. Father began to cry and I? – Did I shed a mass of tears? The heart very slowly, very slowly exploded, very slowly was torn to pieces, but no. It [the heart] remained steadfastly in place. “And do not cry more my son” [2] Mother [lit. the mother] called to me in seeing that I wasn’t crying, and a terrible pain without parallel squeezed my heart, and I was ready at that moment to tear my heart, and to tear it to little pieces and to pour a tank [of tears] to the ground before the beloved mother. But tears, tears – not a single one flowed from my eyes. But now the petrified heart is no longer able to control itself more – and I cried… “My son” – she called to me as I stood beside her – “Please come over to me and I will tell you something.” I did as she requested and with her dry lips she spoke so quietly with no vitality: “Go…forth… (Lech Lecha),^[3a] my son, I ask that you observe the “Kaddish” [mourner’s prayer] and study for me; I say this to you because my death may come suddenly and I will not have the chance to say this to you.” That’s what she said to me and more [150] she said me, but I soon didn’t grasp what she said and nor what I heard, just partially, and even now I stand as like a marble pillar and my heart… Yikes, my heart – how to tear it open before all and reveal all that is going on inside it, but a tear won’t flow until after this, the eyes begin to drip… – massive and terrible is the shattering – and who will redeem us ?

I can’t continue the entry because I need to stand beside the Mother.

From Lutsk yesterday, I received a postcard: Miriam^[4] wrote it. Also my Zahava wrote a little. She still hasn’t received my letter; I answered her yesterday.

Read the interpretive summary or return to the top of the page .

Notes

[2] The last entry in Diary 2 was written eight months before this (25th of Adar II, March 29, 1916) in the town of Hubyn. The present diary was written two hundred and fifty kilometers east, in the town of Baranovka in the district of Zhytomyr, seventy kilometers west of the town of Zhytomyr and two hundred km east of Mlynov. Lamdan, and perhaps also his brother Moshe, went to this town where his parents and sisters resided in the home of Heni (Henya, Genya), the eldest sister of Yitzhak Lamdan who married Boris Kantor (1884-1961) and lived there with five of her daughters in the neighborhood of her father-in-law. Later, Heni went to live in Ekaterinoslav (also spelled Yetakerinoslav now Dnipro, Ukraine). ↩

[2a] [Translator’s comment:] The verb implies the pronoun “you.” Yitzhak calls out to God in a line or two below and the “You” in this sentence thus may be referring to God. [HS] ↩

[3] The mother, Chaya Liba daughter of Yitzhak Rozenberg. [Translator’s comment]: Throughout this entry, Yitzhak refers to his mother as “the mother.” The expression seems to both hold her in high esteem (as the paradigmatic mother, but also possibly reflect Yitzhak’s petrified emotions that can’t bring himself to say “my mother.” [HS] ↩

[3a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak’s mother uses the well-known words that God said when instructing Abraham to leave his native land and father’s home for a land where God promised to make Abraham a great nation. [HS] ↩

[4] Miriam Bortnik, sister of Zahava, his beloved. ↩

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[November 8, 1916] Wednesday night, 13th of [the month of] Cheshvan (5657), in the 4th hour [4 pm], Baranovka

[…]^[5] everything is incomprehensible sleeping here is Moshe son of Shimon who is [word missing] from them. Beloved miserable mother is sleeping [3].. And I sit (I am still writing and she is waking up and I must hurry to her but now I continue) by the table and write this entry. My heart, my heart! The worm of pain sucks and sucks and how will I not go crazy from the pain in seeing our beloved mother in a situation like this, how can I not go crazy? Her gaze is filled with mute supplication and deep orphaned sorrow, her hands are spread out each time and gathered in like [she is calling for]: help, but there is no help and in her hesitant language, because she already lacks strength for this. Lord of the Universe! How can I see all of this – and without going crazy?... Is this our precious and beloved mother?! My God! My God! What have you done to us? The heart hardens like iron and there are no tears, but it is fitting that I shatter my head on the rock when sitting with her and in observing her, what is being done to her. Dear beloved mother – precious and lovely treasure unlike any other [?] […] […] it is taken from us and we lack the means to save it! Beloved mother whose entire life she dedicated to her children, her entire life her efforts and care were for them, in this way she rarely closed her eyes and barely rested. How many tears spilled, how much blood was dedicated – and now, woe, my God, my God, now the mother is lying powerless with zero hope for life – and our eyes watch but our lips have no comfort for her, in our hands there is no medicine – and in the heart […] Woe to the eyes that see this! Woe to us that we have arrived here. I look at the devastated father in old age […] […] […] [4] at the tears that he spills secretly, I look around and ask: Lord of the Universe! For what have you harmed us like this? Why did you beat us with the hand of your terrible fury? Why did you darken our world for us? Darkness and horror, trouble and grief, alas, my God! my God! Where is the courage to bear all this and not go crazy and break apart from the pain?! The beloved mother is lying down. Dozing. And in her sleep, she moans every time with heavy groans that penetrate the heart, moans of a struggling soul, of the soul begging for rescue – there is none. And how did my heart become flint or a rock – that doesn’t burst in hearing this? And again the mystery of life and death in all its horror stands in front of me – and demands a solution; again different thoughts and questions torture my mind. Why all the labor? What is all this life for? Why? Why? And why? Again it all stands out before my eyes in all its horror, and terrible despair attacks me, and the sadness of the world grabs me tightly, I ask and live, I ask and work – and the mystery of the world is forever hidden – – – there is nothing! There is nothing! – – zero, zero, zero and the mind is confused, the head hurts, and heart drowns in a sea of grief and sorrow – and there is no rest, no comfort, no hope – and I – a wretched creature lost among all the many lost souls and drifters in the ugly world, and in these ugly empty lives. – – –

Read the interpretive summary or return to the top of the page .

Notes

[5] A word is erased. This line and the line after it in the next page is unclear and can’t be read. ↩

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[November 10, 1916] [Friday] the eve of Sabbath (Erev Shabbat), 14th of [the month of] Cheshvan, 5677, Baranovka

[…] hard. The mind is confused, the heart hurts. I am in a terrible emotional state following the beloved mother’s illness, when I continue to look at and delve into our situation, – I am close to […] […] difficult […] terribly. My God! My God! What happened to us? … I am incapable of writing more. The heart hurts and storms too much…

Read the interpretive summary or return to the top of the page .

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[November 12, 1915] Sunday, 16th of [the month] of Cheshvan, 5677, Baranovka

Beginning this morning we no longer have a mother! How horrible is this! That same precious and beloved mother, that same devoted and faithful mother – is no longer living!! How great the fracture! And I am not able to further reconcile myself to this, or said more correctly, I not able to believe this terrible tragedy. Is it really so? Is it possible the ^[5a] beloved mother already passed away? Yes, ^[5b] two days earlier I sat with her, spoke to her, gave her water to drink, fixed her bed, stood by her side all night, now I still hear her bitter moans; now I still see her plea-filled looks and mute sadness; her laughing face, behold now she lives still in the apple of my – but no! She already died! The mother died! Is the beloved mother already lying in a grave covered with soft and moist dirt?! Oh Heavens! How is this thing possible?! Each time I enter the bedroom it seems to me that behold the mother calls, behold the mother groans, – but the bed is empty, my God, my God, how great the fracture. It seems to me that here I will turn down the blanket – and I will see the mother sleeping. It seems, it seems. It is impossible to reconcile myself, or believe it – but the mother is already no longer, she is gone. She is no longer. She abandoned us to groans and sorrow. There is no […] and the end of […] [6] the precious and beloved mother passed away during Sabbath night [i. e., Friday night] at the hour of 9:30 pm (the 14th of Cheshvan) after her difficult and terrible suffering…

During Sabbath eve [i.e., Friday during the day], the heart already felt that something awful was close at hand, as [print page 152] the folk say [in Yiddish] “the heart knew immediately.”^[6] This eve of Sabbath, in the wake of mother’s illness, I was depressed more than any other day until now, an unparalleled terrible and difficult grief attacked me and tweaked my heart incessantly; every time I approached the mother’s bed, I observed (she was already sleeping that day) her breathing with difficulty. I watched her – and every time the tears choked my throat and burst from my eyes, it was difficult, difficult for me and terrible, and the short entry I wrote that same day – proves it. Then that night before going to eat [the Friday Sabbath meal], we approached her, I, father, Hansa to give her a bit of milk to drink. I put a tiny piece of sugar in her mouth, but she was already so weak by then that she couldn’t hold this tiny piece of sugar in her mouth, and it fell into the opening of her throat, and she began to choke. Because little saliva moistened her mouth, it was not able to go down well but instead was followed by choking and turning red and [caused by] especially the piece of sugar. Her eyes lifted, and she took on an awful appearance, the look of death. I was alarmed and fled to the kitchen, dumbfounded, but after several moments elapsed, I burst out in a terrible wailing crying which also alarmed me, a kind of bellowing of a wounded wild animal […] and growling from its intense pain […] […] […] [7] men to the sound of our shouting, and immediately it became evident that the mother was still alive. Our spirits revived a little. But [just] a little, for did we not know the bitter and horrible truth, that if not now, then later…

After this, Kantor sisters gathered (the father-in-law’s daughters) gathered^[*)]

[*)] [Yitzhak's footnote:] Yesterday I didn’t finish this entry for several reasons and I finished it today [in the next entry].

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Notes

[5a] [Translator’s comment:] As noted earlier, Yitzhak’s use of the definite article in the phrase “the mother,” instead of “my mother,” appears to be honorific, as if she is the paradigmatic mother, but also possibly distancing Yitzhak from his emotions by not uttering “my mother.” [HS] ↩

[5b] [Translator’s comment:] Taking the Hebrew word hēn in its rabbinic meaning of “yes,” and “behold now.” Jastrow, p. 347. [HS] ↩

[6] Yiddish: The heart [my heart] told me” ↩

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[November 13, 1915] Monday, [during] the 7 days of mourning for my mother ["shiva"], 17th of Cheshvan, [5677], Baranovka

[Yitzhak broke off his previous diary entry in mid-sentence as he was describing his mother’s deathbed scene on Friday night. In this entry, he picks up the narrative mid-sentence where he left off. He had just indicated that his nieces, the Kantor sisters, had gathered, and now he continues:]

and additional other people [gathered], and we all sat in the bedroom and listened to the mother’s rapid and labored breathing. Being tired and very depressed, I went at the advice of the father-in-law’s daughters [i.e., Heni’s sister-in-laws] to sleep a bit in their home. I went in there and I slept. Father slept on the sofa in the dining room, and Hansa [slept] on the bed, and Heni was also in the in-law’s home,^[7a] and thus all of us^[7b] were there. And not an hour passed, when the mother’s soul left her precious and beloved body – and I didn’t know. Already by midnight, I wanted to enter the house, but [Heni’s daughter] Belumah, daughter of the father-in-law [of Heni],, wouldn’t let me and said that the situation was what it was and there were already enough people there, and therefore it would be better that I sleep more. I obviously didn’t understand her intent and went back to sleep, but before morning I entered the house, and I saw that Hansa stood by the door to the bedroom with her head cast down and her face blotchy from crying, but I didn’t pay close attention to this, and I glanced and there was father sitting slumped and also his tear-filled eyes [print page 153] and he nodded his head towards me as if to say: everything was already over – – – I then understood everything, terrible anguish attacked me, but this time I didn’t wail and cry like before, this time a terrible paralysis attacked me, [8] a horrible silence squeezed my heart like an iron pliers, and a terrible turbulence began to storm in my heart. I walked back and forth in the kitchen and had no sense of self [lit. didn’t know my soul]. In tears, Father called to me several times that I should enter the bedroom to see the mother for the last time, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t go to see the mother in the state of death, in a condition when [her] soul doesn’t feel anymore, and she sleeps without the breath of life. I couldn’t look at my beloved mother – when she was no longer the same living and nice mother – and I didn’t enter. Meanwhile, when morning light appeared, Father approached me and told me that I needed to go to the house of prayer to say [the mourner’s] “Kaddish” – He said these things to me while crying while I was behind him… “Kaddish” [“Sanctification”], Kaddish after the mother died – – – how horrible! Afterwards, Heni [Genya] entered [the house] still not knowing anything. She approached the room and when she saw the mother already covered by a sheet – she burst out in a horrible, frightening wail. She ripped hair from her head^[7c] and struck it against cupboard. I was frightened and thought she was going crazy or would take her life. Father hurried to her, to quiet her, and the wailing, crying, and terrible howling of all of us filled everywhere in the house – and the mother lay there – lay there dead and heard nothing… how awful! The moment arrived. We went to the house of prayer with a bitter and shattered heart, with tears choking the throat, through very halting words – I said the first [mourner’s] Kaddish, and my heart dripped drops [and] drops of blood, but no one saw, and the worm of pain sucked and sucked – – – [9] Meanwhile the [Sabbath] day passed, it passed in crying and wailing, with groans and especially terrible despairing thoughts running through the mind, truly, only when the dead is left lying before us^[7d] – – – and especially a precious and beloved mother like this. The day passed. I went to afternoon prayers (minhah). When we returned, they already began to prepare the “accompaniment” [i.e., the funeral] – and from that point forwards the very difficult and terrible hours began. At night [after the Sabbath ended], when we lay the mother on floor for the ritual purification (tahara),^[7e] 7e at that point I could again go in to see her face for the last time. I sat by myself in a corner of the kitchen and cried, I listened to the lamentations of my sister and the other women – and my heart was torn to pieces, torn to pieces and spilling blood. This time too Father told me that I should go in to see the mother, but I couldn’t. Afterwards, when they dressed her in the shrouds (tachrichim) for the dead, and we joined with the many miserable and crying people to do the “tearing” [of the garments] (keriah) – a measure of grief reached to the end of the heavens. I didn’t know what to do. With my fist, I hit my head, I cried out, I groaned – and I did “the tearing” and afterwards they took the beloved body on the bed outside to accompany to the cemetery, and I was one of the pall bearers. I carried and wept among all the many crying and wailing people, and when we got to the cemetery, I was stricken by a terrible silence, a silence of a depressed heart, of a man who already emptied the well of his tears, […] what comes after the suffering is unfathomable. I stood mute, dumbfounded and watched the actions of the men. They dug the ground, they dug a grave for my beloved mother […] [10] I stood mute. They lay her in the ground and I remained silent. What is this, how can I let unfamiliar men [print page 154] abuse my beloved mother like this, but I was silent, silent, as if I was surrendering, not as if surrendering, I was surrendering to that terrible thing that lies in wait for all human beings and is called by the name of “death.” Death stole my beloved mother – and there is no escape from its hand. We returned home without a mother; the mother lies in a fresh grave; the mother is already gone, how is it possible? Yes, yes, she is already gone. Look, we already [began the rituals of mourning, we] removed our shoes, sat on low benches, and began mourning the beloved mother. Look I slept the whole night and my sleep was disturbed, and the groans of mother are no longer heard, and her calling out every time [my name]“Itzi!” “Itzi!”– no longer reached my ears, and in the morning [Sunday], men gathered for the “prayer quorum” [minyan] yes the mother is already dead! The beloved mother is already gone. And must we reconcile ourselves to this? Crying is already impossible. The well of tears is already dried out, only in the heart does the worm of pain chew and suck. Yes. And the world goes on as usual, and the living live and worry over life’s matters to protect living. My God! My God! How crazy is your world, and in my mind the new age old questions gnaw, questions of life and death, that all the philosophers and poets from the beginning of time until now didn’t pass over in silence, but their solutions were not realized by even one, and it continues to torment [11] the brains and to poison hearts. This mystery remains hidden – and has no solution. But all you prove is that there is no solution to this mystery – the more it pains our heart, the more we will feel sad and try to find the hidden solution – – – life…death… what are they? What is their secret? etc., etc. – The heart worries, and the soul is sad and rots in secret, and the will to life comes and nurtures the face and you stand astounded and perplexed admist a terrible confusion and you don’t know what is with you, chaotic confusion and the mystery is concealed more and more.

There are times that, with all the freedom of your opinions and goings on in your thoughts, it is proper for you to acknowledge that there is an extraordinary supreme supervision [God] that directs all human matters, and you are in agreement with the religious opinions discussed here. Look, at the moment we crossed to a different [military] authority, it was summer. How sad we were that we didn’t also go like other people to Austria and in doing so take leave of and be saved from the danger that lies in wait for us now^[7f] ... How much we regretted and were angry at ourselves that we didn’t decide to do this, and when we wanted to organize for ourselves an accounting [of our decision]: “what really was it that urged us to stay here and place ourselves in a kind of danger in the sphere of the danger which is lying in wait?” – We were not able to answer this question, even though I had more than enough [reasons], but in the depth of our hearts, we felt that these answers were not sufficient for us, and that there was a hidden element that compelled us to do this [head to Russia], and we didn’t [12] recognize it; yes, human being are blind, mortal, and don’t feel the true guidance that exists over them. Thus, we felt nonstop regret. More than once we returned to this [topic] face to face. More than once we spoke about this, and more than once we failed to convince ourselves about this – but now the cause is revealed, now I see, because is how it needed to be, and if it had been other: in other words, if indeed we went together with everyone [to Austria] [155] no… the tragedy [of my mother’s death] would be way more awful than it was now.^[8] Before they performed mother’s surgery in Kiev during the past winter when we were far away and separated from here, her single desire was to see her sons who were lost. She already made peace even with the idea of death but as long as beforehand she would see us, and when she heard various conversations on people’s lips, she concluded that after the surgery it was possible to live only one year. She said then with serenity: “Good! Yes, during the year it is very possible the sons will arrive and I will see them again.” Look how far our beloved mother’s strong love and strong longings reaches for us. Thus, apparently, the supreme supervision (i.e., God) directed and we remained here, and we were able to see mother – to nurse her illness, to quiet her longings for us, to say [mourner’s] Kaddish after she passed: the single desire of every mother in leaving sons behind, and I imagine for myself: what would have happened, for example, if we weren’t here but were rather far-flung on the other side of the border?... We wouldn’t have known what was going on here, and they wouldn’t have known what was going on with us? How awful that situation would be! How hard and awful would the suffering of our beloved mother have been in the months of her illness [if we weren’t here]. Her tragedy was horrible knowing there was no longer hope to live, but this tragedy and sufferings would have been far worse (lit. 77 times worse) were we not here – if she knew that she was dying without seeing our faces, and that we wouldn’t be saying [mourner’s] Kaddish for her passing – not knowing that she died. Is there a tragedy greater than this for a mother?...And as terrible as our sadness is, it would be way more terrible (lit. 77 times worse), had we arrived here after that – and beheld that the mother was gone and that we didn’t even see her before her death and didn’t fulfil the mother’s single desire before her death. [Saying mourner’s] Kaddish after her passing! How awful how horrible would the situation be then! Yes, now we understand that this is how it had to be, that it was for our only “happiness” that we remained here and didn’t go to the other side of the border [to Austria]. Until now we did not know how to explain the decision but now we know… Indeed, we are now in an area of danger... but we don’t take it into consideration; our beloved mother was way too beloved, her memory was way too sacred now to us – and we are not able to think about this.

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Notes

[7a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak’s uses of the term məḥuttān, and it appears he is referring to the home of Heni’s father-in-law. [HS] ↩

[7b] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak here mentions his father, and his sisters, Heni and Hansa, but doesn’t mention his sisters, Malcah or Riba. Riba was living in Kiev with her husband at this time. In his entry from Nov. 22nd, Yitzhak mentions Malcah is in Kiev with Riba and is healing her broken hand. It is unclear whether Malcah was still present on this date. [HS] ↩

[7c] [Translator’s comment:] Heni tears her hair as an emotional act of mourning. Jewish law expressly requires the tearing of a garment (Keriah) as a sign of mourning for the seven closest relatives. The torn garment is worn during shiva, the seven days following burial. [HS] ↩

[7d] [Translator’s comment:] According to Jewish law, if someone dies on the Sabbath day, the body is kept in place until the Sabbath ends. Burial is postponed until after the Sabbath, often to Sunday, with mourners refraining from public mourning rituals until then. [HS] ↩

[7e] [Translator’s comment:] In Jewish law, tahara (ritual purification) involves preparing a body for burial by cleaning, purifying and dressing the deceased in white shrouds (tachrichim). [HS] ↩

[7f] [Translator’s comment:] As discussed in the Introduction to this diary, the Russian Brusilov offensive began on June 4, 1916 and soon captured Lutsk and other areas in the vicinity. Yitzhak is referring here to that period when Hubyn passed back to Russian military control and he and his brother Moshe found themselves “in another authority.” As he reveals here, the brothers could have gone with other Jews who chose to evacuate Hubyn and head West to stay with the Austro-Hungarians. However, the brothers wanted to be reunited with their family in Baranivka which was in Russia control behind the front. As Yitzhak makes evident here, though Baranivka was about 155 miles (250 km) east of Hubyn Pershyi, and not immediately in the area of the fighting, the area still did not feel safe. In November 1916, the area around Baranivka was within the unstable rear of the Brusilov Offensive, where shifting front lines, heavy troop movements, requisitions, and persistent rumors of renewed fighting created an atmosphere of constant uncertainty. For a Jewish civilian like Yitzhak, this insecurity was intensified by the recent memory of expulsions and ongoing suspicion from the Russian military, making danger feel real even without active combat nearby. [HS] ↩

[8] During the period when Lamdan stayed in Hubyn, his mother had surgery in Kiev, where the sister Riba lived, and she returned to Baranovka after the surgery. In the interim, the town [i.e., Hubyn Pershyi] was captured again by the Russian military and a large number of Jewish refugees chose to retreat with the Austrian military westward. The Lamdan family decided to remain in the region of Russia so as not to move the mother. [Translator’s comment: The critical edition in this footnote seems to interpret the decision about whether to retreat with the Austrians as concerning the whole Lamdan family, whereas I understand the diary to be speaking about Yitzhak's and Moshe’s decision to head east into the Russian territory and not retreat with the Austrians when Hubyn was retaken by the Russians, as indicated in the prior footnote. [HS] ↩

***

[November 22, 1916] Wednesday, 26th of [the month of] Cheshvan, 5676, Baranovka

Since Sunday last week [Nov. 12th], the third or second day^[8a] from the death of our precious and beloved mother, I haven’t written anything. I found myself in an incomprehensible state, not knowing how I felt [lit. my own soul]. The days passed with unending passing thoughts. Every day I sat [in mourning] on a low stool with shoes removed, mourning the precious treasure that was taken from us forever, I mourned; I thought about everything but I was unable to write anything. Some internal indolence seized me. And when I sat down to write, I lacked the courage to pick up the pen in hand, all of it was lacking clarity and was incomprehensible in my eyes, and on top of all this my illness continued from Thursday last week, an intense influenza^[8b] illness that worsened day to day and beginning on Friday I didn’t go outside; I lay all the time in bed, and I wasn’t able to go to the house of prayer to say [mourner’s] Kaddish for the soul of our beloved mother and my heart ached a great deal because of this. Today I am no longer lying down; also yesterday I sat all day, and many times I already wanted to begin the writing to record in the diary, to improve my poems that I wrote in the recent time period and to finish those that I started, but this got delayed on its own from moment to moment; another time [from] that same spiritual indolence, the challenging inner tiredness. But in the end, I am sitting now for writing and recording this present entry.

[115] How did the death of beloved mother influence me subsequently – in other words, in the days after I wrote the entry about this terrible shattering until now? – Is it possible to give a clear answer to a question like this, No! Is it possible to collect all the fleeting ideas, impressions and lightning thoughts? It is possible that if I had written every day, it would be possible by reading all the entries together to know, but to my regret, I wrote only once. But perhaps I am able to concisely describe [what happened]. Apart from the weeping I did on Sabbath eve before her death and after it and also during the Sabbath day and before and during the funeral – I didn’t cry more. Since then my well of tears was stopped up, and I admit the truth: I don’t find the use for tears. I remember that during Sabbath night (Friday night) before dawn, when I entered the house [where my mother was on her deathbed] from the brother-in-law’s house, [i.e.,] the home of [my sister] Heni,^[9] and I realized that mother was already gone – I was dumbfounded only temporarily that I was unable to cry in any manner, and my desire to cry then was very great; this desire ruled all my limbs and arteries; I wanted to cry and scream over the terrible loss, to scream as loud as I could, but I didn’t scream and didn’t cry – the well of tears was stopped up then but the desire to cry was very strong. Not so now! I don’t cry, and I also don’t find a need for tears. I am just silent… silent. And my silence is quite prolonged. I find myself in a strange state of mind whose meaning I don’t understand. I am silent. Not a groan. Silence. [16] Terrible silence attacks the heart, unresponsiveness without feeling, without pain, without pain? – No! The heart is silent and…still. Does it not feel? Does it not hurt? I don’t know! I suppose that this strange mood captured my spirit, whether [due to] the recent adventure [the death of mother], whether [due to] difficult hardships of life, after the terrible tribulations, all of this befell me and I find myself now in a mode of quiet stillness, a mood that despite all my effort, I didn’t succeed in describing, because I also do not know what it is. Go and describe blinding chaos, a mesh of confusing sounds...

During the Sabbath day in early afternoon, I received a letter from Zahava. I opened the letter only after the Sabbath.^[10] I put the letter in a pocket and said to myself: It will stay here for a few more hours without my knowing what was written there and my interest will be piqued much more… at night [after the Sabbath] I opened it on my sickbed which I was lying on and I didn’t read it carefully. The following day I read it properly. The letter was written in her unique tone: from each line the effort bursts forth to express to me, or to reveal to me as much as possible, her strong love for me. In my earlier letter, I hinted incidentally to her about my various suspicions that perhaps with the important external events taking place, we would be completely separated and not know [what’s going on] from one another at all and thus be lost to one another – forever… In response, these words arrived: “Don’t fear, my darling, it is certain [17] that wherever I will be and however I shall live, I swear to you that my love will be what it is and will not change forever, and I am similarly certain that your love, my darling, will not change etc.” In all likelihood, my darling there, doesn’t know far from my difficult situation here, about the living suffering of the mother, may she rest in peace, or about her subsequent death, and she continues [in her letter] to implore me to send some of my poems, and promises that if I sent her poems, she will send me “an extremely nice present,” and if not, she also won’t send the present that she [considers] so very “good and terrific for me.” What gift can it possibly be? It can be none other than her photo! Truly, a wonderful gift for me, but my darling will need to forgive me if even after this I don’t send her some of my poems. My hands shake in writing the present entry, and it is difficult for me, like the splitting of the Red Sea, to sit and compose the letter to her that I need to send her, not to mention to get busy now copying poems! No. This is impossible for me now. Impossible. The hand trembles, and I am so weak and tired, weak from my illness, weak from the recent events, from the death of the beloved mother, peace be with her, that depressed me to the foundation, weak from fleeting thoughts, weak from everything and everything – is tired.

Father traveled yesterday from here towards Zviahel (formerly Novohrad-Volynskyi) to his temporary house.^[11] The emotions inside me [18] came pouring out seeing this broken and depressed father. He spent dozens of years in the quiet and calm of the idyllic nest [i.e. home in Mlynov], and look a storm arrived and pushed us to a foreign place and from then one trouble after another befell us, and from all the serenity of the past, nothing remains. Now there is only a terrible shortage of everything… Terrible troubles [beset us] from all sides and there is no strength to bear [it]. My heart, my heart [goes out to] our forlorn family that reached this circumstance. Our family? All of us [left] now includes only two broken souls: Father and the aunt… Hansa^[12] stays here in Heni’s [home]; I also am here until my situation is clarified and when it soon is, I suppose that I will also be flung to some remote corner; Malcah^[13] is in Kiev healing her broken hand and hungry…Masha^[14] [i.e. Moshe] – is far flung, far far away and wandering… and only the broken father and old tired aunt, the two of them, are in Zviahel, the strange city that I can’t bear, and how are they living there – superfluous for the city … look this is “all told,” what we have! And the heart is silent, irate and still. The silence is prolonged. I have no need for tear and no need for condolences. Silence and stillness. I hate to hear others. I hate what surrounds me, all of it – silence and stillness.

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Notes

[8a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak’s mother died sometime Friday night possibly before midnight. Saturday night began day two after her death and Sunday night day three. Yitzhak apparently did not go back and look at his previous entry which he actually wrote on Monday, not Sunday, the previous week. [HS] ↩

[8b] [Translator’s comment:] The Hebrew term here (ʾynplnṣyh) appears to be a phonetic rendering of the Russian word, “influenza,” which fits the context though it looks like the term inflation (ʾînəpəlaṣyâ). [HS] ↩

[9] Yitzhak Landan and his father stayed in the house of Heni, the eldest sister of Yitzhak Lamdan. [Translator’s comment:] It appears from Yitzhak’s earlier entry that he and his father were staying there just temporarily at the urging of Heni’s daughter while Yitzhak’s mother was on her deathbed. [HS] ↩

[10] Two of Zahava’s letters survived: a note that was sent to Beretechko before Lamdan’s travels from there to Lvov and onward to the Land of Israel, and an additional note that was sent to him in Sharona in the Land of Israel. Her writing is a mix of Hebrew and Yiddish (archive Zahava Bortnik: Gnazim 1/11282; 1/11283). See discussion in the Introduction. ↩

[11] Zviahela,” meaning to Zviahel. Zhavil (customary in Yiddish: Zvhil) its former name Novohrad-Volynskyi in the district of Zhitomyr in north Ukraine, located about 80 km [50 mi] west of the city Zhytomyr, and about 20 km [12 mi] north of the town of Baranovka. The town served as the capital city of the region (Gubernia) Volyn before the town of Zhytomyr. [Translator’s comment:] On current maps, Zviahel appears to be close to 38 km [23 mi] by road north of Baranivka. [HS] ↩

[12] The third daughter Hannah (Hansa) Lamdan (1892-1942) married Shlomo Shulman and lived during this same time in Baranivka. Malcah, sister of Yitzhak Lamdan, the fifth of the family’s children, married Shmuel Mandelkern [alt spelling Mandelkoren], returned ↩

[13] Malcah, sister of Yitzhak Lamdan, the fifth of the family’s children, married Shmuel Mandelkern [alt spelling Mandelkoren], returned to Mlynov and together with her husband established a drama club in the town. She made aliyah to the Land [of Israel] and her relationship to Lamdan was close. Her husband, Shmuel, eventually wrote an essay “Yaakov-Yosi Goes to the Land of Israel,” about the attempt of Lamdan and his friends to dispatch a young man as an emissary to the Land of Israel. See the Mlynov Book , [Heb.] pp. 206-213 [Translation Mlynov-Mervits Memorial Book, pp. 191-204]. Ribah (Rivkah), the second of the family’s children, married Mordechai Meir Litvak and they had a son and daughter. They lived for a time in Kiev and returned to Mlynov [Translator’s comment: Their son and daughter were born in Kiev and returned to Mlynov in the wake of the Bolshevik Revolution, based on oral interview with the grandson by this translator. HS]. During the Second World War Mordechai was appointed as the secretary of the Judenrat. They were both killed during their effort to flee from the town ghetto in October 1942. See the reflection [by his son Yosef Litvak], “Mordecai Meir Litvak,” in the Mlynov Book, p. 243 and in his essay of the son Yosef Litvak, “the Litvak Home,” op. cit., [Heb.] pp. 413-414. [Translation of these essays and others about the Litvak family in the Mlynov-Mervits Memorial Book, “Portraits,” 222, “The Litvak Home,” pp. 376, “A Memorial Candle,” p. 378, and see also “The Mlynov Community at the Beginning of the Soviet Occupation,” pp. 265-268]. ↩

[14] Masha is a loving nickname for his brother Moshe who after his stay in Hubyn began wandering in Ukraine, and in the end he was thrown from the car of a train by the hands of Denikin soldiers in 1919. [Translator’s comment:] It appears that Moshe came to Baranivka before starting his wandering based on Yitzhak’s last diary entry. See my thoughts in the interpretive summary. [HS] ↩

***

[November 26, 1915] Sunday, the new month [Rosh Chodesh] Kislev, Baranovka

While still Wednesday last week, I prepared a letter to Zahava. [19] In this letter, I narrated for my sweetheart our significant and terrible fracture – the passing of our precious and beloved mother. No other words are in this letter. I intended to send the letter to Zviahel to be thrown in the postal^[14a] box there [i.e., public mail box], because here it is dangerous to send via the local postal service because the local official is appointed to supervise letters and opens them to see if they are written in Hebrew [and hence suspicious],^[15] but until now I didn’t have a chance to send it to Zviahel, and it is still resting in my pocket. Apparently, I should have previously put it in the local postal box because it appears no one is traveling soon from here to Zviahel, and I already want my sweetheart to have my letter, so I don’t have to stop exchanging letters for an extended period of time. Because, truly, what remains for me from everything [that matters], and what is capable of bolstering my hurting heart if not the loving letters of my darling and fine Zahava [“Zahavali”] whose heart is the heart of a caring and loving sister.^[15a]

What a deep inner sadness secretly gnaws at my heart without stopping, and the pain of sadness is so very great. It accompanies me all day and all night. What is the origin of this sadness [lit. what does it hang on]? – I don’t know how to clarify it or analyze it appropriately, but I know that one of its elements is: the death of my beloved mother. The passing of the mother secretly destroys my inner strength and besieges me a great deal. The sadness chews and gnaws in secret and the pain is great, and I want to hide my eyes from it, to turn my emotional attention away from it, and I hide in the piles [20] of my papers and my writings, writing, recording, rhyming, etc., and I want to find consolation that will quiet the gnawing sadness; I wish Zahava already received the letter so she could answer me soon – Perhaps this will be consoling and comforting – – – thus there is no peace. If only I was together with Zahava! – –

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Notes

[14a] [Translator's comment:] Postal is not Hebrew and probably was a loan word in vernacular from possibly Polish, Russian and/or Yiddish. Probably a street mailbox as part of the imperial communication network. [HS] ↩

[15] Due to the War, censorship was applied to the writing in foreign language and in general Hebrew was normally suspect. [Translator’s comment:] See Yitzhak’s referencing the suspicion against Jews in Diary 1, Sept. 11, 1914, and note 84a referencing Lohr, “The Russian Army and the Jews,” pp. 406, Lohr, Nationalizing, p. 20, Sanborn, Drafting the Russian Nation, pp. 116-123. [HS] ↩

[15a] [Translator’s comment:] On the platonic idealization when Yitzhak compares Zahava’s love to a sister’s, see other examples in Diary 2, March 11, and Mar. 18th, 1915 and note 142b there. [HS] ↩

***

[November 27, 1916] Monday, 2nd of [the month of] Kislev, 5677, Baranovka

Living conditions here are difficult. The days pass by with nothing of interest or any work, with boredom and dreariness. In the morning, I get up and wash up, dress and go to pray at the house of study [the kloyz] to say [mourner's] Kaddish for the soul of the dearly departed and beloved mother! She is no longer! What a terrible thought!... I come home at 9am [lit. 9th hour] or after, and during the whole day I wander around here and there in the room with zero interest and I think and spin a mesh of dark thoughts... Sitting and doing something is impossible until almost the hour of 12 [noon], because the disorder in the house is very great and there is no place free and clear [lit. pure]. And when they impose order in the house, when they sweep the floor, etc. and I sit at the table to write: to record in the diary, to improve the vast material I have, to record new [writing] projects, to improve the things that I already started, and to begin new ones, etc. – I still start with artistic creation, because only that may give me pleasant moments in these difficult days. – And then here comes Yankel, who is a young chatterbox, because once he enters, he begins immediately to chatter, and his mouth begins to emit prattle nonstop and [21] meaningless dribble which I can’t at all stomach. He sits and his babbling loud mouth won’t shut up even for a minute, and I am forced to stop all my artistic efforts, to put down all my papers and sit or pace in the room here and there, so as to redirect my hearing of the prattle and the chatter of this annoying boy. This bothersome youth sits for two hours and then goes. [By then] the time for the [midday] meal has arrived, and second – there is [again] disorder in the house, and thus, after the establishment of order, is it possible for me to return to my creative work, but also frequently the prattler is here – and that’s that. In any case, the evening arrives, and I hurry [to the prayer house] for the afternoon and evening prayers (Minha-Maariv) to say [mourner’s] Kaddish, and at night, if there is something to read – I read, and if not I am forced to sit with zero interest and listen to various conversations much to my dismay, or to listen to the prattle of Yankel. And the night goes from one day to the next and deepens, and there is nothing to do, and one leaves [early in frustration] needing to sleep at 9 pm (lit. the 9th hour) but how is it possible to sleep [through] a long night like this, and the sleep disturbances are very difficult, how tortuous!... Thus the days pass! And what will be the end? When, finally, will my situation be clarified – it is impossible to know. The days continue to pass by and the heart – grief and darkness. It’s just that often, very frequently, several hours during the day, and perhaps all the days and all the nights… that my longing for Zahavali [my Zahava] brings inner fluttering and in the heart and soft warmth. And so what is left for me now? My dreams? My aspirations? [22] Where are they? And if they are still flickering in the shattered heart – will some future be foreseen for them? Which hope? – – if I had – and now – she is in the grave, and I am here abandoned to groans and fracture. Where should I turn? Via what will I find solace? Solace? No! The trace of compassion, a little strengthening, a little healing, but behold there far away is the precious and beloved Zahava, whose heart is entirely devoted to me, whose love – is dedicated to me only, dear Zahava, who secretly weaves a complete web of fantasies and dreams – and the content of all the fantasies and dreams – is me; there far away is dear Zahava whom I love with all my heart and my might – and she is my only comfort, this is the only remainder from all my belongings: dear Zahava, and the piles of papers and writings of mine, the letters from her and my letters to her – only this still strengthens me a little, only this still strengthens my wounded heart….

Too bad that my letter to her is still in my possession, and she, my love, certainly already highly anticipates receiving something [in reply] from me. My beloved! She doesn’t yet know the awful and terrible news that this letter will communicate to her! – – –

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***

[November 30, 1915] Thursday, 5th of [the month of] Kislev, Baranovka

On Tuesday of this week, I sent the letter to Zahava, and actually via the local post, because I didn’t have any further patience to wait until someone traveled to Zhvil [Zviahel] when I could have sent the letter by him [to the Zhvil mail system], but I already had lost patience to wait longer, since I know full well how much she [23] looks forward to my letter there. So I decided to send the letter, and may it reach its designated recipient. Yesterday at night, I prepared an additional postcard for her in which I informed her about my letter that I sent to her. I haven’t found rest from the difficult thoughts and fleeting ideas which are so disturbing, and I thought: let me sit down to write something to Zahava, perhaps that make me feel a little better, but I didn’t expect this, what actually was the case, that in those moments I was writing to her, some secret comfort caressed my heart, silently, surreptitiously. That realization, that the words I was writing here would reach my Zahava [“Zahavali”], my precious and beloved sister,[15b]and that she will read them with all her very intense interest, and she will empathize with my sorrow or my entire emotional state with all her soul and might, and she will think about me and my words a great deal, and she will dream and think a great deal [about me], and not [just] one hour during the day and not [just] one time at night – I am the content of her thoughts and fleeting impressions, – this realization has the strength to caress my wounded heart a little and whisper to it: look, you have a faithful sister like this at a distance, how great when there is a caring soul alert all the time to your situation and your being! – – – and the heart is so attracted, so drawn to her!... And the longings are so piercing and how can I not experience longing – if she is so wonderful, so nice and touching! – – – – –

[24] And my longings are intense not only for dear Zahavali [my Zahava], not only for the memories of those days I was so close to her – they are so pleasant for me and sacred in my eyes – but even the memories from [my stay in] Hubyn [Pershyi] in general – spark the fluttering inside me of hidden and positive longings. The days of winter this past year that I spent among the people of Hubyn – I now think of as a beam of light admist the thick fog of those dark days. I am reminded of all the people of Hubyn, especially Shmuel my friend,^[16] who all became very close to me, so beloved, like my brothers and sisters and parents… and my soul longs so much for them. I recall in every single detail the general life of these people – and a wave of faithful loving friendship washes over my heart, a wave of love envelops it, and those people among whom I found shelter during a more or less long stretch of time, during the days of these storms...

There are times I walk along the road and I see at a distance some young woman standing dressed in something like the enveloping shawl [lit. “cloak”] similar to that of Zahava and covered in a black winter kerchief – like that of my Zahava, (there is a girl like this here in Baranovka) – and my heart beings to pound inside me, and a wave of warm bursts from the heart… Yes, I know that Zahava is not here, and that she is far, far from here – but I find the small resemblance between this young girl – and Zahava sufficient to make a strong impression on me. Many memories and images already pass one after the other in my imagination. Here, here is Zahava outfitted in a dress the color of chocolate, and a black apron on the front of the dress; here she sits by the table and sews something, and I sit opposite her and chat with her. She looks down at her work, but every half minute or so she lifts her eyes, not large, but black and sparkling a lot, saying something to me, and a little nice smile spills across her delicate face… Then pure rolling laughter, girlish laughter; her girlhood and all her pleasant sounds stirring up the passion (lit. find their way to the blood)… And after image passing by: Here I am [at that time] sitting by the table, absorbed in teaching with the children and then suddenly two nice and soft hands cover my eyes – and I know immediately: this is dear Zahava!... I remove her hands, look at her, and a pleasant laugh, the laughter of carefree youth spills across on her face, and she is so wonderful and pleasant… Then the long winter nights and darkness in the room and we two sit and chat… then the clear nights of spring… strolling… talking… but is there a place here [in the diary] for all these many memories [26] and images that pass by amazingly fast, like a projector^[17] before my eyes? All of this used to be, all of this belongs to the past, my God! And now? How difficult and bitter is the present, and with hope and fearful trembling,^[17a] I look to the future. What will it bring on its wings? And the heart trembles: this wretched one [i.e., Yitzhak] has been deceived a thousand times, and he waits a second time… Ouch! Who will now offer me that closeness of my beloved, to whom I can tell everything, and [to whom I can] spill my guts to her all about all that fills my heart. I believe that this pure and simple young woman understands my soul, perhaps much more than visiting (or criticizing) experts, and different psychologists; she understand me more than all of them. Yes, she is compelled to understand me… I know –

Well then, today is the 5th of Kislev, my birthday.^[18] How old am I today? I am 19 years old. Yes. The days are passing and going by with lightning speed and you don’t stop to look right or left, and time signals to you: “Do you know? Such and such days already passed, and you grew older by such and such days!”… And a bitter feeling bubbles in the heart. I look around: Where am I? How have my years passed? What will become of my aspirations? What will be with my nonstop longings and with my spirits that longs to burst upwards towards the sublime? – – – the best days are passing, the [27] golden age is passing! Now, only now, is there still time to rise, to aspire, to break out to the wide open spaces, to leave the narrow sphere to seek satisfaction for the demanding soul, if only there is gratification… or to be situated beyond all gratification, and to point at this and that: this is like that!... and that is at like this!^[18a] These are not fantasies and vain dreams; my heart aches, hurts a lot. I sense that this here is not my place. I know that all the limbs of my being are bursting towards something more lofty, more elevated; I feel that of all the normal and inconsequential things that are all around – none have the ability to satisfy the great thirst of my soul. Look, darkness and horror abound, there is no open space, and there is nothing. I am submerged in the abyss, in the filth of mud, and the bursting capabilities of my soul are dissipating and weakening – And what will be the end? – – – Yes, I thirst for something! Yes, I am compelled to add something to my banal life, which is an offspring of the great and terrible nothingness of all life in general… But look the days pass, if not now – when?^[18b] And shall I stop [trying] further?... And with a hurting heart and deep grief, I prepare my self-reckoning, today, my birthday, and the challenging passing ideas and troublesome thoughts that I have to honor this day!... The days pass, and where is the “I” of me that dreams about standing out from the normalcy [28] and uncomplicated that is all around?... Where is he?!... Will something more sprout from the piles of my writings and my poems? Or are all the longing shouts imprisoned in these papers and will not find a place in real life? Apart from the lines and rhymes written, will nothing be nurtured and created in the space of life? I am so disappointed in reflecting on the days that are passing and changing quickly, seeing that there is nothing yet in my hands [i.e. accomplishments], and all around me silence still rules and space is empty – – –

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Notes

[15b] [Translator’s comment:] See previous note, 15a. [HS] ↩

[16] Shmuel Burshtak from the village of Hubyn [Pershyi], close friend of Yitzhak Lamdan. See Diary 1, page 16, note 24 [July 19, 1914]. See the detailed description of the well-to-do house of the Burshtak family in Hubyn in the writing of Yosef Weitz, in “Family of Mendel Hobner,” in: There was a Small Town, pp. 207-09. ↩

[17] Literally “a magic lamp,” which serves to project images on a screen. ↩

[17a] [Translator’s comment:] It doesn’t appear very likely that a young Jewish man like Yitzhak would have been familiar with Kierkegaard or his work, Fear and Trembling, though it is conceivable he heard of him as an important philosopher. [HS] ↩

[18] See note 91 in Diary 2 [Nov. 12, 1915] regarding Yitzhak Lamdan’s birthdate. ↩

[18a] [Translator’s comment:] I’m not clear on Yitzhak’s intent here. My best guess is he is saying something like: if I can’t find satisfaction for my demanding soul (in my creative efforts and Zionist aspirations), then let me transcend the impuluse, and not feel aspirations or desire at all, and be content with the way things are here and there. [HS] ↩

[18b] [Translator’s comment:] Quoting the famous saying of the sage Hillel from Pirkei Avot 1:14. [HS] ↩

***

December 1916

[December 6, 1916] Wednesday, 11th of [the month of] Kislev, 5677, Baranovka

Since Sunday night,^[18c] a terrible pain in my teeth began to torture me and continued until 10 pm (lit. the 10th hour) last night, when I lay on my bed submerged in deep sleep. After disturbed sleep for two nights due to the pain of my teeth, a knocking on the window next to where I sleep reached my ears, and I woke up and I asked, “Who is knocking?” and the voice of Father answered me. Quickly I opened it assuming that he already returned from [a visit to] Mlynov, because I thought that he traveled there already on Sunday, but in the end we learned that he was traveling there right now, but he traveled the ways here for Heni’s sake, a superfluous expense, and the unnecessary hardships of the road made a terrible impression on him, and not just the general situation, but there were additional difficult details like these: Yes, if he knew that Heni was already traveling, he would not have traveled the road [29] here. Towards morning he obtained a wagon towards Polonne^[19] to the train, and he hurried to travel, and when departing he called in a quavering voice: Be well! If only I can succeed [staying well] more or less after these setbacks. My heart is broken inside from all the pain and sorrow, in seeing the broken and dispirited father, whose fate is so bitter and difficult, fall in his station during his old age – my God, my God, how long will we suffer this way? The mother is no longer living… [we are] without a native home…scattered and dispersed… with great need… and in every place that one turns only sadness and grief. Here I am already ensconced close to the known danger, and this broken and dispirited father hurries to grab some means to save me from this danger!... Grief that is so terrible troubles my wounded heart, the destruction of our family and its difficult situation – has a depressing and terrible impact on me; Not for nothing I ignore the details of my life; in other words, I don’t worry so much about them – and [instead] pay attention to the situation of despondent family. When I am for myself – ~~what am I?~~^[19a] – I will fight, I will struggle, I will hope, I will despair, but at the time that the familial feeling is aroused in me – then it is hard for me and my heart hurts, and [there is] very great distress and anguish.

I received a letter today from Moshe and yesterday when Heni departed, I gave her a letter to deliver to him.

[30] I am very disappointed that I have received nothing from Zahavali. Every day I wait expectantly – but in vain. And here I already was wishing so very much to read her words and hear her heartfelt thoughts.

I am thinking of dedicating a detailed entry [in my diary] to the energy of my [literary] oeuvre, and the large [amount of] material that in recent days I accumulated for writing, but now I can’t begin it, because it is late and I already need to hurry to the house of prayer to say [mourner’s] “Kaddish”.

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Notes

[18c] [Translator’s comment:] Probably Sunday night. See earlier discussion of Yitzhak’s inconsistency in describing Sunday night as lel yom aleph or bet (=sheni), Aug. 16, 1914, note. 67a. [HS] ↩

[19] In Hebrew, spelled pwlnʾh [pronunciation uncertain], (now currently Polonne, Ukraine), the city known in the Hasidic tradition in western Ukraine, in the Khmelnytskyi Oblast (district) located about 20 km (12 mi) southeast of Baranovka and 120 km (75 m) southeast of Mlynov. ↩

[19a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak starts to quote more of Pirkei Avot: “When I am for myself alone, what am I?” However, he scratches out “what am I” and instead emphasizes that it is okay to stick up for himself, but when his family situation is at stake, it has a much more depressing impact. [HS] ↩

***

[December 11, 1916] Monday night,^[19b] [16th of the month of Kislev], Baranovka

Already the [the thirty-day period of mourning called] “sheloshim”^[19c] has been completed since our dear and beloved mother passed away. Already a month has passed. The wound which continues to scab over, begins to drip blood again; at specific times when I sit alone and delve into this tragedy of ours, I conjur up in my memory all that this beloved mother meant to me, I try to stretch a general through line across her entire life, and what do I see? – the life of a devoted mother who lives and worries only for her children, who feels sad only in their sadness, who worries only over their worries, who reduces her physical rest and sleep from her eyes, only for them – and this dear mother is not with us. Already a month passed since she was no longer living! What is most distressing and painful, she passed away – in a so terribly tragic way [31] far from the home of the native land (môledet) from the town of birth, deprived of the familial comfort of nesting in our home; the children are scattered and dispersed and everything is in a state of deterioration and shortage, and everything is in a state of worry and fear of what can arrive in another second, another hour – in a difficult situation like this, the dear mother groaned as she left us, after the difficult and terrible suffering caused by her awful illness. Even when she already knew, when she was lying on her bed, that she would not get up from it, even then, when the heart is revolted by everything and relates with terrible abhorrence to [the thought of ] all the living and all that in the future will develop and live, [and] to everything that one is capable of enjoying from life, since one knows that one soon won’t get anything [because one is dying] – even then in such a tragic state – the mother’s heart still displayed its great strength, even then it was possible to see how great was the devotion and faithfulness of the beloved mother. More than once, following the end of life meal, she cried out and prayed that death should hurry to free her from her suffering and at the same time [she prayed] that we should also be freed from this constant struggle and unending trouble. These moments, when I heard such words from her mouth, were the most awful and difficult for me. My heart almost broke apart from all the grief – when feeling that this will actually happen at this stage [32] and at the same time I was dumbstruck by the big heart of the mother, that even while she was in a situation like this, [one] that as much as we try to describe it in our imagination, we can’t do so completely, [in such a situation] she worried about us, the children, and desired already to quickly depart from life not only due to her difficult suffering, but also because we were suffering so much due to her disease. How sublime is the heart of the mother! How much I feel insignificant myself, a sinner and guilty before the spirit of this mother who is so beloved! I know that with all my devotion and love towards her - all of these [qualities] is nothing compared to her dedication and her loyalty. My wound continues to scab over, though the scab tears frequently, but in the end, I must not hide the bitter truth that it is healing. I am alive, I hope, I work and worry, even though not much more time has passed since the day that the most precious treasure was taken from me – namely the beloved mother. I know that if the situation was reversed, if I died and the Mother lived – it would have been different: not in a time so soon [after my death] would her wound have made a scab and perhaps not have scabbed over at all. This realization is enough to depress the heart and cause it terrible unending remorse – – – and the dear Mother, may she rest in peace, sensed this in the depth of this tragedy, she sensed this. [33] And who knows how many tears she spilled in secret, about this, when no one was watching; who knows how many perceptions and thoughts spun in her mind after this. I remember what she said several times in the continuation of her conversation, “Here I realize I am going to die and you, after some time will pass, will be consoled, and everything will return to the way it was earlier: you will return to Mlynov, the house will return to its former state, and everything will be in an orderly fashion – and you will be consoled and will live in my absence.” How much terrible pain and how profound the tragedy in these words! A person who is dying knows that not everything will die with his death, and life will go on in an orderly fashion. And also those close to him physically and spiritually will be consoled in the end and they will try to restore the course of life and live, how painful! What a complaint and protest! But, at the same time, is it not true that we feel in these words also some sacred and extraordinary quietude, a calm that not many experience, a calm of a soul welcoming the face of death in peace and expressing the pure and bitter truth to the living. Lord of the Universe! Whence comes this sacred quietude to the children of she who died?! During the days of the mother’s illness, may she rest in peace, I experienced many days, especially during the beginning months, when silent hope illuminated the heart of the mother, and she was comforted and hoped to recover and to live. I observed this and I was convinced that a [34] terrible storm was raging inside her, between hope and despair. Her illness was then in a condition like this: One day it was easy for her and the next day the situation worsened; thus the condition continued changing a long time, and especially in those days, when she still had hope of recovering and was shifting between hope and despair – especially then she increased her crying and mourning for the life from which she needed to be separated. She mourned, and the pen of the greatest writer can’t capture the profound and sad words such as these which the mother lamented herself, by herself! And see this wondrous thing, especially in the later months at the time that the situation was clear to all, when she knew that all hope was futile, and especially in those days, not even a tear did her eyes shed, and most days she slept peacefully, suffered her pain in silence and with a special sacred calm faced the terrible enemy – Death, as if she had already surrendered, already made peace with this. But is it possible for us to understand the precise psychology of this? Death didn’t tarry, and during the Sabbath night [Friday night, Nov. 10th] a month ago the dear and beloved mother expired silently, she lay there breathing heavily, breath by breath, her chest moving up and down, up and down – until it ceased. To eternity was beloved mother taken from us, to eternity, [page 166]; her body was laid in a fresh grave in the cemetery in this town [35] and beloved mother’s book of life is completed and finished! And a bitter feeling bubbles in the heart, and terrible pain grasps the soul, and you look around yourself at life in general and your face is distorted and a bitter moan bursts from the depths of the heart… but life comes and does what it does. One needs to worry, to hope, to fight, one needs to be reconciled with the situation, even if it is terrible as much as it is. What is past will not return soon – these realizations frequently destroy me^[19d] and bring me to a terrible emotional state. Insignificant and inadequate, guilty and ashamed, I feel towards myself before the spirit of the beloved mother. I know that I have not fulfilled my obligation; I am insignificant and inadequate; I am impoverished, and my spirit, though it seems to me sometimes to ascend to the heights – I see in comparison to this sight [i.e., the mother’s character] – that it embraces the abyss… I know that I am a sinner, truly this sin is the iron law of reality, but this is “a sin.” With penetrating grief, with a hurting and broken heart, with a feeling of self-contempt, and insignificance, I mention now the name of my beloved mother, completing the thirty days [of mourning] since her death. Please forgive me, soul of the beloved mother! I know that my hands are much too impure, much too contaminated, that I am too much a sinner and unclean from the filthy life – to mention the name of my mother so very much beloved, holy and pure!

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Notes

[19b] [Translator’s comment:] Most often Yitzhak means Sunday night when he writes “night of day 2” (lel yom bet) (see Dec. 12th, 19th, 26th in 1915 and Feb 6, Feb. 13, March 12 in 1916), though occasionally he means Monday night (see Aug. 16, 1914) and at times calls Sunday night, night of day 1 (see Aug. 16, 1914, and Jan. 23, 1916 and note 127). Here I suspect that he means Monday night since he says that “sheloshim” (30 days of mourning) is over and that would have been only Monday night, not Sunday night. [HS] ↩

[19c] Sheloshim (meaning thirty in Hebrew) refers to the thirty-day period of mourning following burial including including the first seven intense days of mourning (shivah). After the first seven days and until the end of the thirty days, mourners refrain greeting people, cutting the hair, shaving, attending parties and listening to music, among other acts of mourning. Yitzhak’s mother died on Friday night Nov. 10th (15th of Cheshvan). She was buried Saturday night, Nov. 12th (16th of Cheshvan). Shiva was over on Saturday night Nov. 18th (the 23rd of Cheshvan). By my count, sheloshim (the 30 days) would be over at the end of this day, Dec. 11th (16th of Kislev). Thus if Yitzhak was writing Monday night and not Sunday night (as indicated in note 19b), he would in fact be done with the 30 days of mourning. [HS] ↩

[19d] [Translator’s comment:] See the similar Hebrew phrase Yitzhak uses on Aug. 2 and Sept. 15, 1914, note 85d there. [HS] ↩

***

[December 18, 1916] Monday, 23rd of [the month of] Kislev [5677], Baranovka

It has been a week^[19e] that I didn’t write anything in my diary for various reasons. In my situation, no changes have yet taken place, which bothers me a lot, since it is already difficult for me staying in Baranovka, and as a result, being a burden to my sister in this small house, and indeed, is there any goal in staying? In the meantime, I don’t have another choice, and despite my desire and my inclination, I am still forced to stop here and wait until my situation changes, if only it is possible it will change… During the morning of Wednesday two weeks ago father traveled from here to Mlynov via Rovno [now Rivne, Ukraine],^[20] and this trip was on my behalf. Perhaps he will find in Mlynov “a little something” for me [in the way of work]… but he still hasn’t returned from his trip and apart from this, my faith is very, very small that he will obtain there what he is seeking. But hopefully he will succeed in his efforts, [and if so], then I intend to extremely quickly to travel from here to my destination – [37] which, obviously, is still not clear now.

Monday last week, Heni returned from her trip. She brought several letters from M. [Moshe], most of the content of the letters concerned generic things related to the times. In his last letter, he demonstrated to me how much he lacked an understanding of [my feelings about] staying in Baranovka without anything of interest or any work. If I can, after I obtain “a little something,” I must bolt immediately from here. It amazes me that he think it is pleasant for me to staying here when I am placing a burden on the sister. It appears to me that he should have a good sense of how difficult and unpleasant this situation is to me, and with the first opportunity I will try to escape this unpleasant situation.

Finally, yesterday, finally, after prolonged waiting and a lack of patience, with pining eyes^[20a] and a long heart, I received a letter from my beloved Zahavali [“my Zahava”]. The letter was in Hebrew and it was opened, but by some miracle survived and reached me. For certain they didn’t see the Hebrew letter in the postal service because it was bound in a Russian letter. For no good reason, I suspected that my beloved didn’t write for a period of time. In addition to this letter, she already sent two letters which I didn’t received and no doubt they were lost in [38] local postal service, because they open all the letters here, and when they see that a letter is written in Hebrew letters [yəhûdît]^[20b] – they immediately tear it up, and this was also the fate of my beloved’s letters which, according to what she indicated in her last letter, she had written a great deal there [in those letters]. A real shame! My beloved understands how difficult it was for me during the time that I didn’t receive any letter or postcard, during a somewhat long period like this. “I empathize well with your situation, my darling,” – she wrote – “not receiving anything from me for three consecutive weeks. Believe me, my beloved, when a complete week passes after receiving something from you, and I haven’t received anything, I can’t relax, because who knows better than you the impact of those moments when you receive your pleasant letters. During these happy moments, I forget what is negative for me; believe me, that also today it was good for me reading your postcard. I felt distress only for you, my darling, that you didn’t receive anything from me, namely my two letters, that I so much wanted you to receive.” The darling! One cannot deny that in all these words, untarnished and steadfast love is conspicuous, and the words are all straightforward, and written with a proper spirit and clear understanding and without deceit. [39] [Quoting the letter again:]“Yikes, who will give me wings to fly to you this moment, to see you, to squeeze you well, tightly to my heart, that will make it a bit easier for me; woe how difficult and bitter life is.” I read these words and can see my darling and look she is sitting by a table, her black eyes sparkle from hidden longings, her lower lip is being bitten by her teeth, as her habit, at a pressing and difficult moment of sadness. Behold she writes and stops, lifts her eyes and looks at an invisible point in space, day dreams, and her imagination lifts her far, far to me, to the content of her dreams and hopes. – – – “Who will give me wings” – in reading these words I feel and hear the beating of her heart out of the strong and pinching longings. “Yitzikil” [nickname for Yitzhak] – she writes – “I am writing to you already for the tenth time, and your faithful sister makes you swear not to let bitter anguish bore into your head. You are still young, and for my sake you need to be strong and not despair if you love me.” Yes, my darling tries with all her strength to fortify me, how naive! She thinks that the horizon of my outlook, and the sphere of my thoughts is narrow and regular, and the anguish is normal and common. She doesn’t know that the horizon of my outlook on life in general in fact continues to expand, because my thoughts continue to ascend upwards and gradually I leave the normal sphere and aspire to something more lofty and elevated, something not evident to the normal eye… and even my experience of despair will not be like the sickly despair that typically affects everyone else, but it is completely different – – – she doesn’t know all this, and in her innocence and simplicity she tries to fortify my spirit, and to warn me away from bitter despair. My beloved! Indeed, I love her with all my heart and might, and she appreciates me, but forgive me^[20c] Oh be assured and relaxed about your Yitzhak. Your words are unnecessary, though truly they are precious to me since they come from the depths of your heart filled with love, but they can’t be directed towards me, because I am already beyond them, beyond the simple and regular despair that you warn me about – – –

Recently, a secret hope began to hover out in the open air that is saturated with tears and blood, and there are grounds for this hope: the Central^[20d] Powers who are fighting with our Entente [lit. “our agreement”], sent a note^[21] to the neutral countries, in which they addressed those countries to which they transferred [41] the note [namely,] the governments fighting with the Entente [i.e., the Allies], and in it, they express their willingness to begin a negotiation of peace. The Allies need to answer “yes” or “no” to the note. How the matter concludes – the coming days will tell. Meanwhile, the heart hovers between hope and despair and waits nervously for the future. Perhaps? Perhaps? And with this [hope], one is already so fattened on grief and pain during this terrible period, and doesn’t easily believe in something positive… Yikes! Would that the terrible slaughter will already come to its end, and a new light, a light of peace, appears above the terrible destruction and rubble. The War has already toppled too much, already too much blood has been spilled, already worlds are destroyed, for whom? And how many young fresh lives have been plucked – and until when? How long will this storm continue? My eyes are entirely predisposed to hidden fear and all the heart flutters in waiting: [using Aramaic:] has redemption begun already? Are these already the [print page 170] strong sleeping buds beginning to awaken and stir from their places?… I am convinced that many hidden forces that are not yet revealed are imprisoned inside me, many pearls and gems hidden in the recesses of my heart – but I will not lift them up yet; many treasures of thought, and collections of thinking are inside me and all this pushes me and forces me to express all this. And thus, my material [for writing] expands so much from moment to moment, one thought chases after another, one notion pursues another, and like the images of a motion picture many illuminating thoughts pass through my mind, and each one begs “express me” and I record all the material [for future writing] that I am accumulating and it grows day to day. [I] begin to write and even before I finish, while I am still sitting and writing, another thought arrives and shoves [out the others], and I begin [writing] it, and the cycle continues. Thus, in recent days, I am multiplying the beginning [of creative efforts] many times over, beginning many things but not finishing. And with many [ideas] I don’t pause to even start them. Tremendous originality appeared in me and it continues to make waves in my soul. And only this [creativity] comforts me and regarding this, I feel personal pride. Some things I finished, and in a dedicated diary entry, I will speak about their value as a product of my recent state of mind.

The hope for peace still hovers in the air and affectionately caresses the painful hearts. The newspapers don’t stop writing about the note that Germany^[26a] presented suggesting the beginning of peace negotiations. The response of the [Allied] governments is not yet forthcoming, because the note has not already reached them. But from the reports of the newspapers, it is evident that all [of the Allies] regard this [note] with a special seriousness, not as they regarded it at first [as just a German tactic], but [now] judge it with serious consideration. And, in general, people view the possibility of a positive result. How much the hearts tremble and wait and how much they quiver for every word expressing quiet hope, and how much they pray silently for rescue and comfort soon.

[45] As if to make one angry, despite the rapid advance of my creative ability, and the large amount of material accumulating for me in the wake of this – I could not dedicate an hour of free time in recent days to creative work. In recent days, I spent some time in the store of my sister,^[27] and also read the newspaper, wanting to know the important news occurring now in the political world – [these activities] stole much time from me. The [winter] day is short [in daylight] and at night I would work creatively and read, but because of the high cost of kerosene, everyone goes to sleep at an early hour. In this way, my significant creative effort was postponed from day to day. And how much I regret this! And especially this [I regretted], I dwelt on the bitter difficult mistake that I made during the days of my youth and childhood, in not acquiring broad knowledge in European literature and languages. Now I see that this error greatly hindered the advancement of my talent. Lately, when I began to read a bit in European literature, I turned up much sparkling, precious gems of thinking scattered there, unlike anything comparable in our literature. Now I try to correct the distortion [in my background] but as indicated there is not enough time. The reading, and original creative work, both of them are very important, and it is impossible to postpone one in favor of the other, and the two of them need to be interwoven with each other. But to my regret I dedicate a short time, not nearly enough, to the two of them.

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Notes

[19e] [Translator’s comment:] I believe Yitzhak started out writing that “it has been a week since the day I wrote in my diary…” However, in the middle of the sentence, he instead wrote “it has been a week since the day I didn’t write in my diary…” which doesn’t make sense. I corrected this to read, “it has been a week since the day I didn’t write in my diary…” [HS] ↩

[20] Rovne, Rovno, in the center of the district of Rovno, also pronounced “Rivne,” in the area of Volyn in northwest Ukraine, about 50 km (31 m) east of Mlynov. ↩

[20a] [Translator’s comment:] See Deuteronomy 28:65 for the use of this idiom to mean longing. [HS] ↩

[20b] [Translator’s comment:] The Hebrew term yəhûdît can mean either Yiddish or Hebrew (or some combination). Typically when Yitzhak means the Hebrew language only, he uses the term ʿibrît. As noted in the critical edition, in two of Zahava’s surviving letters she wrote in a mix of Hebrew and Yiddish (see Nov. 22, 1916, note 10). ↩

[20c] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak scratched out these words. [HS] ↩

[20d] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak uses the Russian derived word “centraliot” written in Hebrew letters for “Central Powers” and then in parentheses, he writes Hebrew word for “central.” [HS] ↩

[21] Nota, Latin: [meaning] writing, memorandum. [Translator’s comment:] On Dec. 12, 1916, Germany and its allies issued a public peace proposal. The note was deliberately vague, and many suspected the intent was not sincere. The note did not specify concrete territorial concessions or war aims, but suggested that the war had reached a point where negotiations should begin. Yitzhak is already aware of that note indicating how quickly news related to the War was traveling via telegraph and newspapers. [HS] ↩

[22] “States to the Agreement” or States/Powers to the Agreement (the Entente), the alliance of the countries of Britain, France, Russia, Italy. ↩

[23] The Hebrew term meaning hardened, wrapped in fat as in Psalm 119:70: “Their minds are thick like fat: as for me, Your teaching is my delight.” ↩

[24] The words are Aramaic meaning "the beginning of redemption” as in B. Megillah 17b: The war that takes place during the seventh year is also the beginning of the redemption process. ↩

[25] [Translator’s comment:] There is no footnote 25 in the critical edition. This is a placeholder to keep the numbering sequential. [HS] ↩

[26] Kino-photograph, Russian: film in a cinema. ↩

[26a] This is the first time in Yitzhak’s diary he has used the term “Germany.” Several times in 1914 he referred to the country as “Ashkenaz.” ↩

[27] Heni, his eldest sister in Baranovka, lived in proximity to her father-in-law. The store was owned by the family of husband, Boris Kantor, a native son. ↩

***

[December 26 (25th),^[27a] 1916] Monday, 7th night of Hanukkah, Rosh Chodesh [the minor celebration marking the new month of] Tevet,^[28] 5677, Baranovka

The question “to where?” stays with me now, the order of the day, and all day I ponder it, but I can’t resolve it. [46] I ask myself one of the most difficult mental blocks to resolve: because I need to resolve this question not by itself but also in the context of the new conditions I will face when I hit the road – – and this issue makes my question more difficult many times over. In spite of this, perhaps I in the end am reaching a final decision. Here, for example, I decided now to travel to Lutsk but I fear perhaps this will be detrimental to the situation that I find myself in afterwards. Because I very much do not want to go far away to another place. I’m inclined, if I don’t travel to Lutsk, to head towards the northern cities in the interior of Russia, to the town of Stroskol in the district of Kurtsk (currently Stary Oskol, Russia)^[29] where we have our Neta^[30] and additionally Mlynovers [residents of Mlynov], who were expelled from Rovno, fled there. I really, really don’t want to travel there. A foreign city, without neighbors, without friends. What will I do there? Here, in Lutsk, [by contrast, I’ll be] among reliable friendly people and good acquaintances, close to my beloved and dear Zahava. Especially, it is possible to hope for the return of the longstanding owner who will take me in again.^[30a] And thus I composed a letter yesterday to Chaikel Weitz^[31] in which I requested he write to me if there was no danger at stake in my coming to Lutsk, and whether I am able to obtain work there, or paid salary for lessons sufficient to support myself. I sent the letter via [a letter to] Zahava and I also wrote Zahava clarifying for her why I want to come to Lutsk, and why it is so difficult for me to travel far from here. This letter was not the first on this discussion. I already wrote a letter like this and several postcards [print page 172] and I hope to receive an answer in the coming days. Today I received a postcard from Zahavali, but it was responding to the postcards mentioned above, but to one before those. The dear! She reminded me of how nice the days of Hanukkah^[31a] were last year… I also reminded her of this in my next to last letter. She wrote that every night she dreams of me, and how difficult it is for her when she awakens – and there is nothing … Oh brother! If only I was able to see her, to speak with her. How much I long for the answer to be positive [about work opportunity in Lutsk], and then, it seems to me, I will decide to travel there. But let’s wait and see how things turn out!

In recent days, I limited my original creative work for several reasons. Besides the letter, I sent a postcard to Zahava, and a postcard to Beracha Burshtak about receiving the 15 rubles she sent for Moshe.

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Notes

[27a] [Translator’s comment:] The critical edition mistakenly lists the date as December 26. The 7th night of Hanukkah that year was Monday, December 25th. [HS] ↩

[28] The first night of the month of Tevet, which [begins] the second day of Rosh Chodesh (the ritualized minor celebration marking the start of new month). ↩

[29] Kursk, a city and district in west-central Russia, outside the Pale of Settlement. Stroskol (Stary Oskol) in the district of Begorod, Russia, close to the district of Kursk in the southwest Russia, close to the border of Ukraine. ↩

[30] The details of this are not known. ↩

[30a] [Translator’s comment:] Possibly referring to the home he and his brother stayed in when in Lutsk after leaving Nadchysti. See his entry on Oct. 7, 1915. The home owner was a relative of Abraham Lender, who was also related to the Weitz family. [HS] ↩

[31] Chaikel (Chaim) Weitz, Diary 1 (Heb. page 5, note 2) [June 26, 1914]. Son of Avraham Weitz, from the family that dwelled in the village of Hubyn mentioned many times in Diary 1 (page 5 and following). [Translator’s comment:] Chaikel Weitz was also staying in the home Yitzhak stayed in when he and Moshe were in Lutsk in 1915, as mentioned in the previous note. [HS] ↩

[31a] [Translator’s comment:] See Yitzhak’s entry on the seventh night of Hanukkah, Dec. 7, 1915, in which he and Zahava locked arms and walked together. [HS] ↩

[32] A member of the Burshtak family from the village of Hubyn mentioned many times in diaries 1 and 2. Beracha was the sister of Abraham and Shmuel [Burshtak] ↩

***

[December 28,^[32a] 1916] Thursday, 3rd of [the month of] Tevet, Baranovka

The changes in my negative situation which I am anticipating so much still have not materialized. On Sunday this week, Father was supposed to travel a second time regarding this matter [of finding me work]. But it was brought to my attention that on Tuesday he was still in Novohrad. Vol. [now Novohrad Volinskyi].^[33] Apparently several additional weeks will pass before some changes take place in my situation. I already so much want to escape from here, not because of my longings for another place, or because my imagination and hopes present to me nice pictures in other places. No! On the contrary. Travel is very difficult for me now to any old place and in a state like this… It will be especially difficult for me if I need to travel far, far from here. No, not because I hope for a much better situation, my future situation will be what it is. But rather I really want to escape the present unpleasant situation. And the core issue of my current unpleasant situation is staying with my sister.^[34] I will clarify matters briefly; I don’t want to fill the pages of my diary with such matters. In the pages of diaries, it is necessary to find the echoes of more important matters, more elevated, more interior and deep, matters whose source is the mysteries of the soul and its introduction, from the source of spiritual lives that carves out its path for me. But in order that the spiritual lives find their echoes in the pages of my diary in their completeness, I must perforce intertwine them with [print page 173] exterior daily life because they are entwined together in some measure and it is impossible to separate them one from the other, and thus I will briefly explain here. I will not discuss if indeed it needs to be this way or not, because my entire life I have been warned of intrigues and disagreements like these, but whatever, I know that I was a burden to my sister. I know her nature quite well. I witnessed its manner during the days I tarried here. She is one of those recognized types of women whose nature is filled with much snake venom; even though this one is my sister, what is foremost for me is my internal honor and that my “I” is not damaged even a hair-breath by this. I am satisfied that I have confronted the truth and the familial feeling will not blind my eyes… my sister is like one that described in earlier Hebrew language as “an evil woman” [48] and with these types of people when you add additionally the difficult present situation – it is already easy to conjecture how much it exacerbates their character. It appears to her that only she suffers, and that everyone is happy and only she is miserable… and everyone just needs to pay attention to her. Everyone just needs to help her, and everyone is obligated to her help, and everyone needs to care for her situation… And with a bad character like this, I need to sit and suffer silently because, as indicated above, all my life I was warned against getting embroiled in intrigues like these, and even now I try to be cautious of them. But it is so difficult for me to see how she “blows up,” how she stores inside her all the anger and bitterness and seeks the perfect moment to spill it on us, the orphans and unfortunate ones, as if we are guilty for her situation, and as if we want to remain here to be a burden to her. She doesn’t want to know or to see that as difficult as her situation is, she has not fallen as drastically as ours: [we have] no home, no native land (môledet), the mother died, and now the broken father and the old aunt work but they lack a sufficient livelihood. She doesn’t want to know about this, and as if mountains of water swamp her with our staying here. We, not just me alone, because did she not hinder Hansa from her traveling, for if not for her [Hansa], I don’t know how she [Heni] would be able to live here, because Hansa now is the housekeeper and brings order to it. But she, the shrew, does not want under any circumstances to recognize this, and seeks every good opportunity to spill her wrath, the wrath of cobras on her. And I? Lord of the Universe, if only I could escape from here, I wouldn’t stay here even a second. And in as much as she knows that my situation is crystal clear, that I cannot travel from here – why is she so puffed up? Is the help that we gave her any less [even] after the many years she left father’s authority? Is it not appropriate that I be here for half a year? But I hate intrigues such as these, and if I even wanted to argue with her, would I be able to prove the truth to “a snake” like this? She is one! But I don’t worry much about myself. I know, without degrading my self-respect, that I am not afraid of her. In the end, yes, I will escape from here. My heart goes out only to Hansa^[35] the unfortunate sister [49] whose bad luck caused her to be trampled by the feet of everyone, even here where she deserves thanks – she is only a target for half the wrath of the wife-sister whose nature is laced with [print page 174] “snake venom.” How sorry I felt for her and how my soul secretly cries for her. But co me let me hope, if only I live, then I will know how to behave, then I will know how to improve situation of the unfortunate sister Hansa. I will know how to make reparations for the bad days of her life, and I will know how to behave with this “nice” firstborn sister, with “good deeds.” But come let me stop already with this issue!^[36]

Lately I have done almost nothing. The large amount of material I have accumulated lies like a rock that hasn’t been turned, and which I haven’t worked on or improved; all of the different starts remain finished. There are many causes for this and I feel personal shame about many of them; an emotional laziness came over me lately, and I didn’t work with the appropriate passion on all my original work. And other issues consumed much time. In essence, it is impossible to work because of the disorder in the house and at 11 am, I hurry to the market to read the newspapers and to stay abreast of the course of significant political events taking place now. After that it is time for the meal. I sit down to work in the afternoon and even before I start on something – the day is already gone, and I hurry to the afternoon-evening prayer [minha-maariv]. After that, I walk to Moshe Ganis^[37] or to Yosef Zaltzman,^[38] new acquaintances, to hang a bit with them, because, as as already noted, my emotional state is disturbed when I remain here in the house with her [Heni] and afterwards it is impossible to work because of the disorder. Even when everyone lies down to sleep, I can’t anything: immediately one hears “the growls” of “the good” sister about the candelabra that is burning and that no one is scrimping on kerosene. Reading also consumes much time. And thus, I worked very little in recent days and I regret this a lot.

In spite of this, I managed to start some new things during this time.

[50] Though there is a noticeable lack of time for work with my pen, still my heart and mind are not resting and they are creating nonstop. New material continues to pile up. I also started writing several things.

In general, I experience a significant spiritual progress. But I relate to the current creative strength which strongly bursts forth, as only progress. I know that in as much as I feel myself strengthening in my creative abilities and more originality – this is still not “the essence.” The “essence” still needs to come and this is only progress. But it is appropriate to observe this progress with open eyes and protect it so the essence will come. With a trembling and anxious heart, I wait and listen to all that goes on in my internal world – and I regret that I can’t grasp the many means [page 175] that are able to accelerate and increase my progress still more and to completely prepare the reliable ground for the coming “essence.”

I do not think it is superfluous to record the political events that are happening now, even if briefly. The question of peace has not disappeared from the agenda, on the contrary, it grows enthusiasm, and it is possible to attribute the reasons for its increase to the note of the American President that was sent to all the warring nations with the proposal of peace, to cease the bloodshed. This note stirred up a great deal of noise, and is being taken very seriously. If truly the newspapers of the Entente States [i.e., the Allies] try to minimize the impact, by pointing out the various mistakes and errors of Wilson^[39] – still it is apparent and obvious how much this note arrested the attention of all the governments. Furthermore, have not the newspapers already announced the note of Switzerland which turned to the governments with the proposal to cease bloodshed and with her meager forces stands ready to help for this peace.^[39a] The note is short but written in a plainly humane spirit and with a love of peace.

Who knows, perhaps from all this – something will sprout!

Read the interpretive summary or return to the top of the page .

Notes

[32] [Translator’s comment]: The critical edition has the date as December 29, 1916 but according to the calendars consulted Thursday the 3rd of Tevet was December 28th. [HS] ↩

[33] [Novohad Volynskyi] in the district of Zhytomyr in north Ukraine, located about 20 km (12.5 m) north of Baranivka, which was called Zviahel on page 13 [of Yitzhak’s Diary 3, see Nov. 22, 1916]. ↩

[34] From the words “I will clarify here” many diagonal lines of erasure cross half the column and cross the back of a column and a half that follows, in which Lamdan expresses his relationship to his eldest sister, Heni. ↩

[35] [Hansa is] Hana, the third sister in the Lamdan household (1892-1942). ↩

[36] The diagonal erasure marks extend to the words “this issue.” ↩

[37] Moshe Ganis, a friend of Lamdan, a resident of Baranivka. Lamdan corresponded with him after he left Baranivka. ↩

[38] No details are known about him and it is not referring to Yosef Zaltzman who was born in Warsaw (1890-1913) who was among the founders of Kvutzat Kinneret and was killed in an Arab riot near Upper Beitanya. ↩

[38a] [Translator’s comment:] On December 23, 1916, the Swiss Federal Council published a note that strongly supported and mirrored the earlier peace appeal made by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson on December 18. [HS] ↩

[39] Woodrow Wilson (Thomas Woodrow Wilson 1856-1924) the 28th president of the United States (in the years 1921-1913), received in 1919 the Nobel Prize for his contribution to establishing peace in Europe. He initiated the establishment of the League of Nations. ↩

[39a] [Translator’s comment:] On December 23, 1916, the Swiss Federal Council published a note that strongly supported and mirrored the earlier peace appeal made by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson on December 18. [HS] ↩

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***

Translated by Howard I. Schwartz
Updated: March 2026
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The Diary of Yitzhak Lamdan (A Translation)

Translation of Diary 3 (November 1916 – May 1917)

Diary 3 (November 1916 – May 1917)

The Context of Diary 3

Yitzhak’s Whereabouts During the Brusilov Offensive

Notes

Diary 3

Notes

November 1916

[November 8, 1916][2] Wednesday, 12th of [the month of] Cheshvan, in Baranovka, Russia [now Baranivka, Ukraine]

Notes

[November 8, 1916] Wednesday night, 13th of [the month of] Cheshvan (5657), in the 4th hour [4 pm], Baranovka

Notes

[November 10, 1916] [Friday] the eve of Sabbath (Erev Shabbat), 14th of [the month of] Cheshvan, 5677, Baranovka

[November 12, 1915] Sunday, 16th of [the month] of Cheshvan, 5677, Baranovka

Notes

[November 13, 1915] Monday, [during] the 7 days of mourning for my mother ["shiva"], 17th of Cheshvan, [5677], Baranovka

Notes

[November 22, 1916] Wednesday, 26th of [the month of] Cheshvan, 5676, Baranovka

Notes

[November 26, 1915] Sunday, the new month [Rosh Chodesh] Kislev, Baranovka

Notes

[November 27, 1916] Monday, 2nd of [the month of] Kislev, 5677, Baranovka

[November 30, 1915] Thursday, 5th of [the month of] Kislev, Baranovka

Notes

December 1916

[December 6, 1916] Wednesday, 11th of [the month of] Kislev, 5677, Baranovka

Notes

[December 11, 1916] Monday night,[19b] [16th of the month of Kislev], Baranovka

Notes

[December 18, 1916] Monday, 23rd of [the month of] Kislev [5677], Baranovka

Notes

[December 26 (25th),[27a] 1916] Monday, 7th night of Hanukkah, Rosh Chodesh [the minor celebration marking the new month of] Tevet,[28] 5677, Baranovka

Notes

[December 28,[32a] 1916] Thursday, 3rd of [the month of] Tevet, Baranovka

Notes

The Diary of Yitzhak Lamdan

(A Translation)

[November 8, 1916]^[2] Wednesday, 12th of [the month of] Cheshvan, in Baranovka, Russia [now Baranivka, Ukraine]

[December 11, 1916] Monday night,^[19b] [16th of the month of Kislev], Baranovka

[December 26 (25th),^[27a] 1916] Monday, 7th night of Hanukkah, Rosh Chodesh [the minor celebration marking the new month of] Tevet,^[28] 5677, Baranovka

[December 28,^[32a] 1916] Thursday, 3rd of [the month of] Tevet, Baranovka