Translation of Yitzhak Lamdan's Diaries

Diary 2 continued (January - March 1916)

Copyright © 2026 Howard I. Schwartz, PhD

Yitzhak Lamdan's second notebook (Diary 2) continues into 1916 and its translation follows below. You can return to his earlier entries from 1914-1915, the overview, the concise summaries or the interpretive summaries of the diary entries.

Diary 1 (June 1914 - September 1914) | Diary 2 (July - December 1915) | (January - March 1916) below

January - March 1916

January 1916 (Hubyn Pershyi)
January 3, 1916 | January 4, 1916 | January 5, 1916 | January 7, 1916 | January 12, 1916 | January 22, 1916 | January 23, 1916

February 1916 (Hubyn Pershyi)
February 1, 1916 | February 6, 1916 | February 13, 1916 | February 15, 1916, | February 19, 1916

March 1916 (Hubyn Pershyi)
March 6, 1916 | March 7, 1916 | March 11, 1916

January 1916

[January 3, 1916], Monday night, 28th of [the month of] Tevet, 5676, in the terrible period, in the village of Hubyn [Pershyi]

It has been a week and more that I didn’t write anything in my diary, and there are in fact days like these that I had much to write about my state of mind. But for many reasons I didn’t write anything.

In fact since last week a change occurred in my state of mind related to my adolescent feelings. In my earlier entries, I wrote about my youthful feelings that were bursting forth, despite life’s difficulties and their [the youth feeling’s] secondary importance, – they tried to breakout and demand their due, – and in several places, I mentioned some victories of theirs… but now different, different is my state of mind, especially the recent several days. A different spirit has entered. I truly don’t know if this is an artefact of current challenging circumstances or not: – all the feelings of adolescence in my heart were annihilated, extinguished, swept away; finished are all the delights of my youth. I began to relate with disdain and plain inner disgust at all forms of youth and passion… I felt a special inner valor standing above such inconsequential matters. Simply put I became someone else. The combined diary entries dealing with my relationship to Z. B., will remain for me like a mark of disgrace and a souvenir of transgression (note the rhyme), since I wrote them in excessive haste and gave them a place for them in the diary and in my heart, if truly but for a few days. But never will I forgive myself for this rashness. Now I don’t feel anything towards such matters. Related to this, I am truly able to recite the words of my poem, “In a Foreign Country.”^[116a]

[106] My spirit and my thoughts – are pulled now in a different direction: to my parents and all the beloved members of our family. I have strong intense longings for them. And my words and thoughts are only for them every day. My hair bristles, intense despair and terrible worry attacks me when remembering “everything” of ours. There is no home, no possessions, no nothing – but nonetheless I would soon renounce all this, happily, if only this was a sacrifice and all of us remained alive, whole and healthy and could be together. Aha. When will that day arrive? Someone comes with a rumor on his tongue: that there is hope for peace. And the heart is encouraged a little, dreams and hope grow in you and sneak in, and they rise up against you, and silently try to console you and stir you up... and the heart tries to be encouraged and to hope...

Woe, our Father in heaven! Have mercy already on your world and your creatures!...

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Notes

[116a] [Translator’s Comment:] See the first mention of the poem, Nov. 2, 1915 and note 89 there. [HS] ↩

[January 4, 1916] Tuesday night, eve of the new month of Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

I didn’t intend to write now. I stayed for a long time [considering] whether or not to write the things that follow further on. Because it is difficult to even think these things, and all the more so, express them in writing. But the recognition that all needs to be recorded in the diary as a faithful mirror of my life – won out, and I sat down to record the words that follow.

At this moment I set aside the new poem that I just finished which was started yesterday at night. The poem was written under the influence of my recent state of mind. I must sit by myself and think about and delve clearly into the ambiguous mystery of life, and the results of my thinking are these: “Utter futility all is futile” [Ecclesiastes 1:2]. I see a life of work, hope, work and hopes, but what is the purpose of all this, if in the end death comes and ends it all? Why all this life, if death lies in wait and conquers it… and what advantage does a human being have over an animal?... Just like [an animal] a person will decompose in the ground, but an animal’s life is much better [than a person’s]. It doesn’t feel anything apart from its life, and until the last moment of its life doesn’t give death a passing thought and doesn’t know what it is. But a person labors, builds, creates, thinks and reflects – but his death is like an animal’s… But the heart which he has been given feels and senses this terrible death…Why the labor of intellectuals, and producers, the dreamers, the builders, their labor will pass away, they will decompose in the earth, the work of their hands will be changed and take other forms. Why all this? … On their graves other lives will dance, and after that, on the graves of these lives other lives will dance, and thus on and on...How terrible this tragedy! What is the secret of this life? Where is the boundary of eternity? Is it true that everything is so insignificant, and so hidden? The mystery of life is a hard nut, many try to crack it but don’t succeed, and why do I, this insignificant person, delve into this marvelous mystery? [107] Why do I let these dark thoughts enter my mind? Since only challenging melancholy [lit. “black bile”] attacks me through them. But the thoughts appear on their own and are woven together by threads in my mind and there are moments they don’t give me to rest...

My recent poem was written under the influence of these thoughts. In it, I am still immature. The days of childhood and youth are the happiest days in the life of the man. Then there was nothing bad, no despair, no doubt, and also no death, only goodness, innocence and faith and radiance without end… After those [days], the period of adolescence arrives containing disappointing dreams and hopes, futile love, repression of the flesh,^[116b] desecrating also the soul and the body. After the years of adolescence come the days pulling the difficult yoke of life, and the heavy war of existence, seeking food without rest and becoming captive only by the blinding money with no dream or invigorating vision for the desiccated heart and mind… and after those years, the years of old age and white hair, the time when the fire of life recedes and fades and terrible death stands ready to swallow decades [of life]. Thus, the brief days of a person are difficult and only in their beginning does the radiant sun shine^[116c] on the days of childhood and adolescence – but these days pass quickly like a falling start from the heavens to the horizon, like brilliant lightning, like billowing smoke. This is the content of my poem.. – –

I am so sad that such thoughts arise in my mind, and that I write poems like these. However, there is only one remedy for this, one lap in which to hide oneself from these dark thoughts, and that is – the religious feeling. “And they will look around below and behold distressing darkness and they will turn upwards” [Isaiah 5:30 plus 8:21].^[117] It seems to me that it is like the saying of Hillel Zeitlin^[118] and how nice and correct are these words. Come let me also try to hide my head in the lap of the religious sentiment and then I will be relieved. But much natural and internal education, and much internal connection and improvement – “teshuvah” [return/repentance] in religious language – I still need [to acquire] to attain that level. But please let me get there!...

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Notes

[116b] 116b [Translator’s comment:] The Hebrew words literally mean “annihilation of the flesh” and I take it to refer to the hormonal changes in a male and the sexual impulses he needs to control.” [HS] ↩

[116c] [Translator’s comment:] the Hebrew term מהיל (mhyl) appears to be a hiphil form of the biblical root הָלַל (hālal) meaning to shine. See BDB entry for הָלַל (hālal) though the term is not frequent. ↩

[117] Following Isaiah 5:30: “And they will look below and behold the distressing darkness (because of the besieging enemy) and light will be darkened by clouds (in the heavens).” [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak doesn’t quote the last phrase of the verse “and light will be darkened by clouds” and appears to be giving an interpretation to this final phrase, which interpreters have difficulty translating. He understands the reference to light here as a “turning up towards heaven,” in other words, as religious piety. The words “turning towards heaven” appear in Isaiah 8:21, not here in 5:30 and Yitzhak appears to be invoking them from Hillel Zeitlin’s words which he quotes subsequently. This chapter of Isaiah famously compares Israel to a vineyard that God tended and that despite all God’s care produced wild grapes thus incurring God’s wrath and destruction. [HS] ↩

[118] Hillel Zeitlin (1871-1942), a writer and thinker. His writings have a mystical tinge and apocalyptic Hasidic spirt and a Russian mystical characteristic of the times. He wrote a series of articles between 1899-1902 in the newspaper HaShiloach under the name “The God and Evil According to the Conception of the Sages of Israel and the People.” These appear collectively in the volume of his writings from 1911. The saying that Lamdan cited appeared at the end of volume one in this edition. “There is no path and no escape or refuge for you, son of man, from all the vanity and trivialities, sorrow and tribulations that you see, except through a great idealistic love. If [quoting Isaiah 8:22]: “they will look to the earth, and see trouble and darkness, gloom of anguish; and they will be driven into darkness.” – behold there is another path for man – turn upwards [following Isaiah 5:30]. Hillel Zeitlin, Collected Writings. Vol. 1, Warsaw: Tushiya Publishing, 5671 [1910-1911], p. 147. [Translator’s comment: “and turn upwards” appears in the previous verse Isa. 8:21, not in Isa. 5:30. [HS] ↩

[January 5, 1916] Wednesday night, the start (Rosh Chodesh) of the month of Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn Pershyi

I’m stuck in a difficult state of mind. It is very difficult for me. I don’t have the strength to bear it. Dark and terrible thoughts churn through my mind without stopping. Such terrible thoughts that I don’t even want to put them down on paper. My sorrow is terrible, difficult is my grief. It is not about my situation that I worry and fret – my entire being is [focused on] the situation of my parents and all of our beloved family. Lord of the Universe! Give me strength to bear all the sorrow and embitterment! Put an end to the terrible destruction of the world! Resuscitate us all. Let us see each other at peace, “and we thank Your Great Name, Selah.”^[119]

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Notes

[119] Quoting the end of the blessing recited after meals (Birkat Hamazon) in the section “We thank thee for the miracles…” (al hanisim) recited during Hanukkah: “And you did miracles and wonders with them” (another version has: “you gave them trials and tribulations”) followed by “and we thank Your Great Name, Selah.” [Translator’s comment:] Given Yitzhak’s newfound religious sensibility, he probably was reciting the standard Birkat Hamazon after each meal. The words he quotes, however, come from the blessing added on Purim in all the liturgical versions I consulted, and only on Hannukah in the liturgical traditions of the Eastern Communities (Edot HaMizrach). In either case, the blessing is thanking God for the miracles of redemption during a time when Jews were historically being persecuted. [HS] ↩

[January 7, 1916] Friday (Erev Shabbat), 2nd of [the month of] Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, in the village of Hubyn Pershyi

The mud outside is incredibly deep. Rain falls, a cold wind blows, and at night darkness closes in all around. I eat meals at the home of Yehezkel [Burshtak], and I sleep at [the home of] Shlomo [Burshtak]. Since it is impossible to walk at night especially with galoshes, I decided to go while it was still day to Shlomo’s home and of course to eat [the meal] with him. Since it is not pleasant for me to spend the night in the home of Yehezkel, and because those who stay overnight with him go to sleep early, the “non-Jewish woman” [i.e., shabbos goy]^[119a] comes and puts out the candelabra, but I don’t want to sleep, and as a result I lie [awake] for a long time on the bed – and meanwhile all the terrible thoughts that I so much want to avoid, arise in my mind. But it was also not nice for me to leave the home of Yehezkel during the Sabbath eve (erev Shabbat) without eating the Sabbath evening meal with him. But the reasons mentioned and other inner causes – won out, and when Shmuel Burshtak arrived there, I went together with him here to the home of Shlomo (where I am now recording my entry) and now that I am here it seems to me (or perhaps it is true) that everyone is looking angrily at me that I came early to interrupt and the situation caused me great inner pain. – – And I thought to myself, “Why did I leave there? Yes, there it was better for me… and why did I foolishly come here?”... There is no rest inside me. I can’t find my place. When I come here, I am sorry I left there. I go there, and it seems to me that it is better here. I am scattered and discombobulated. Yes. “Woe to the children who were exiled from their father’s table, etc.” [B. Berakhot 3a]...^[120]

Let me not forget that I am “In a Foreign County,” in a foreign country! And I still need to think positively about this foreign place – – – with a depressed heart and with a heavy spirit I cry secretly, and my heart is torn to pieces:

Where are you radiant idyllic scene?
Where are you nest of our native land? (moladetanu)
Is it forever that you (plural) already passed away?
And a second time you (plural) won’t soon visit us? (tifkedunu)^[121]

An awful despair attacks my heart. A vice of grief grips my soul with the full strength of its ability. Here then are the Sabbath evenings in a foreign country. Woe to us!

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Notes

[119a] [Translator’s comment]: The household relied on a gentile woman (“Shabbos goy”) to come to the home on Friday night to put out the candelabra since it is forbidden on the Sabbath for Jews to light or extinguish a flame. Since the candelabra was extinguished early, Yitzhak could not read and write and could not relight the candelabra due to Sabbath restrictions. This was not an issue on other nights of the week when Yitzhak could stay awake after others went to bed and put the light out himself (e.g., Nov. 20, 1915). [HS] ↩

[120] Quoting Talmud Bavli Berakhot 3a: “when Israel enters synagogues and study halls and answers in the kaddish prayer, ‘May His great name be blessed,’ the Holy One, Blessed be He, shakes His head and says: Happy is the King who is thus praised in his house. [When the Temple stood this praise was recited there, but now] how great is the pain of the Father who exiled His children, and woe to the children who were exiled from their father’s table.” [Translator’s comment]: Yitzhak has quoted these words earlier when he first arrived in Hubyn Pershyi (Oct. 13, 1915) to describe the pain of being exiled from his father’s table. In the context of the original midrash, God is the metaphorical father, and the exiled children are the children of Israel who are exiled after the destruction of the Temple. Yitzhak identifies his own exile from his hometown with the exile of the people of Israel. See the entry from Oct. 13, 1915, and note 66a, for additional context. [HS] ↩

[121] Throughout these pages of the diary, Lamdan cites lines from his poem, “In a Foreign Country,” and describes its contents. He engaged in writing this poem and the poem “Death of Joab” during all the time staying in Hubyn. [Translator’s comment]: See the first mention of the poem on Nov. 2, 1915, and note 89 citing other references in the diary. [HS] ↩

[January 12, 1916] Wednesday night, 8th of [the month of] Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, in the village of Hubyn [Pershyi]

All week I wrote nothing. Why? I don’t know myself. Yes, I had moments like these that were suitable for writing about their contents every moment and hour. Here now in this [entry] I will refer to some of the contents of this week.

[109] I no longer remember which day it was, whether Sunday, Monday or Tuesday of this week, when I heard the bit of news from our town, Mlynov, the location where the nest of our native land (môladtēnû) is planted. And via the bit of news, we learned, though in truth the information was not entirely clear, that our home, the nest of our homeland, still exists and is standing on its foundation.

All this we heard from a military official who is staying in Mlynov,^[121a] though this bit of news didn’t do anything for me, because at the moment the essential issue is not our home, but rather its builders [i.e. family]… all our cogitations and thoughts are only about our beloved parents and family and their welfare; Even if the rumor is true that our home still exists – will it also be standing in the future if our town is entirely situated in the storm of war? – but even so what warmth permeated inside me in hearing about the town of my homeland; what an extraordinary nice feeling filled me during these moments, coziness of a birthplace melted all my limbs, but only at these moments, the state of mind lasted only momentarily. Is it possible to last longer? – – –

The day before yesterday I received another bit of news about my like-minded friend and kindred spirit., Yermeyahu Maisler.^[121b] And this was how it happened: Jews from Berestechka came here, and at night I sat and talked with one of them. I asked him if there were Jews from Mlynov in Berestechko, and he answered me that there were a few there, and also some in Boremel, and that staying with him was one young man from Mlynov, who last year would bring him sugar. Immediately I realized that this was Yermeyahu’s brother – Yankel. And indeed, based on the description I gave to the guy, he responded affirmatively – this was truly him. Then he told me that his brother also came with him. I asked him if the brother was younger or older and he replied older. Then immediately I grasped that this was Yeremeyahu.

How I longed to meet up with him! At this difficult and terrible time, a time that the heart is anguished and hurting so much, I want to converse for several hours with friends like him. But how is it possible now to travel to get together. If at least I could exchange letters with him.

Look how we have been scattered, dispersed in every direction. Yikes, Almighty God! How long will Your hand be extended against this wretched world and not have mercy on her?!

And today too there I met with one of my good acquaintances Berger,^[122] a student of the Yiddish yeshiva, who lives close to Berestechka, whom I got to know in Dubna in the company of Roitman.^[123] [He is] a young interesting Hebrew man whom I liked. And this is how I bumped into him today: while I was still at the home of Moshe Bortnik and teaching the young girl Nechama, and a wagon passed by the window and stopped at [the home of] Yaakov Bortnik. Zahava^[123a] looked out the window and said, “That’s a Jewish wagon.” I also looked out the window and it seemed to me that this [110] was Bruder^[124] from Berestecha, and I quickly entered the home of Yaakov B. [Bortnik] to see him. When I entered, I immediately realized from the voice that this wasn’t Bruder. When I looked at the man’s face, I immediately recognized my acquaintance Berger even though he was dressed in a nice set of clothes, a brimmed hat, and his appearance now was like a coachman simply because of his clothes. Nevertheless, I recognized him immediately, but he didn’t recognize me. He was traveling to Lutsk. He didn’t have time to chat with me and meanwhile his wagon had broken down, and he had to do some work to fix it, but he promised when he returned, he would stop by for several hours.

How nice these meetings were for me, how good I felt to my very bones among these friends.

A bit of news from our town; the info about Y. [Yermeyahu] Maisler;^[125] my meeting of Berger, all of it happened this current week. And perhaps good and peace will begin now? Perhaps they are the first signs?!–––

However, my state of mind is completely different now. A heavy and terrible situation, deep anguish without limit and grief tear my heart to pieces, afflicting me now incessantly. Bad rumors arrive about the situation of Jews of Bar. [Baranivka].^[126] Who knows what is happening there with our beloved family. Yikes, who knows about their wellbeing and their lives? Woe, God of Mercy! Give us and them strength to bear all of it safely! Put an end to this terrible destruction! Like a gloomy shadow I go about, devastated, tortured, depressed. Woe, my God, my God. It is hard to bear!

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Notes

[121a] [Translator’s comment:] It appears from this statement that Mlynov at the time was in the hands of the Austro-Hungarian troops since the military official Yitzhak spoke to was stationed in Mlynov and was passing by Hubyn Pershyi. [HS] ↩

[121b] [Translator’s comment:] On the background of Yermeyahu Maisler, see note 125 below. [HS] ↩

[122] Shimon Berger, mentioned in Diary 3, [see March 4, 1917], p. 199 [in Heb. edition] and in additional places in the diary. From the family of Naphtali Berger in Berestechko, who changed its name to Harari upon making aliyah to the Land of Israel. Aaron Harari, a relative, was an amateur photographer and took many of the photos of the town and people. [Translator’s comment:] Shimon Berger was the young man who visited Yitzhak’s home on July 21, 1914, and wanted Yitzhak and his brother Moshe to work for him setting up a hops business in Dubno. Yitzhak also described him then as someone who disparaged his Zionist dream. [HS] ↩

[123] Ravitman [or Roitman], no details are known about him. ↩

[123a] [Translator’s comment:] Zahava Bortnik (“Z.B.”) was the young woman Yitzhak was attracted to. This is the first time he mentioned her again since dismissing his earlier feelings on Dec. 22, 1915. [HS] ↩

[124] Bruder, no details are known about him. ↩

[125] See further details about Maisler in the [Heb.] Introduction. One of Lamdan’s close friends from Mlynov at the time when they established a small Zionist “group” of four members. [Translator’s comment:] See the earlier reference to Maisler in Yitzhak’s entry on December 11, 1915 and additional details about him in note 109 there. [HS] ↩

[126] Based on what is said here and in the continuation, it appears that this is a writing error and that [the acronym in Hebrew] should read [“bbr.” rather than just “br.”] meaning “in Barnovka” (Baranivka), the place where Lamdan’s parents were then staying. ↩

[January 22, 1916], Saturday night post Sabbath [“Motzei Shabbat Kodesh”], 17th^[126a] of [the month of] Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Perhshyi]

More than a week has passed in which I didn’t write anything in my diary. Not because there wasn’t anything to write. Generally during these days there was not a single day lacking material to write about. My heart bubbles constantly… and always if I sat down to write I had something to write. My sorrow is so deep. My anguish so vast, and the pain of my longings so very terrible – that no matter how often I write about them – I can’t express even a small fraction of them. It is not due to a lack of material that I didn’t write but rather from an indolence born of internal sorrow and pain [i.e., emotional paralysis] which attacked me almost every one of these days. All day long I am busy, and when nighttime arrives, I am able to read, to write, but a certain inner fatigue descends upon me and inebriates me and prevents me from doing anything, and I can only sit or lie down [111] and think and think and ponder, the brain churning without stopping, churning and laboring… and if I want to do something – I can’t arouse myself from my wierd lethargy or exhaustion that attacks me.

Yes, this is the exhaustion of a suffering person, afflicted and depressed, who is lacking energy...

And for this reason, I haven’t continued [to work on] my long poem that I began to write about from my present life (a kind of lyrical poem)^[127] though I hope to continue it and finish it. Let me pour out my thoughts and spirit in lyrics! If there is in me a paltry little glimmer of a poet of wondrous life – then let me give expression to my feelings bubbling up in my heart and to my thoughts that don’t let me rest. If I can’t express them all – I will express some of them.

Wednesday or Thursday of last week I sent a letter to Yermeyahu [Maisler] via the ritual slaughterer from Boremel who was here –, even though I was still uncertain if he was indeed in Boremel. But, in spite of this, perhaps he is in fact there. And how much I would enjoy it, were I to receive his reply and be able to exchange letters with him. He is a close friend whose company I enjoyed in years past when we conversed together about all matters close to our hearts – also now he could sweeten full cup of bitterness a bit...

Yikes, this cup of bitterness! It is filled to the brim; there is no escape, nor hiding from the difficult sorrow and pain that presses on and afflicts me nonstop; there is no fleeing from the terrible passing thoughts in my mind.

Argh! (ha) If only I could inform my beloved parents and family members of our wellbeing, and they [inform us] of their wellbeing!

Recently, the ember of my ancient love also awakened, my ancient love, a local girl from our homeland (môladtēnû) and our small town (lit. “daughter of the nest”); the first and true ember of love. The hidden and modest feelings rouse my heart in remembering the pretty Devorah. Amid all the terrible sorrows and worries that fill my heart, amid all the difficult thoughts that I have and dream about all the beloved people of our homes and families – she also appears before me. The favorite! Do you know how much love I feel towards her [112] here in this foreign country, despite all that he suffers, suffering with no end or rest…Do you know that I truly love her, because vain love is not able to survive such a long time, and you cannot ignite her ember every time after days of flickering and being extinguished?

The ember of my ancient love awakened, my first love, and just as every Hebrew[not Jewish] person I knew in my Father’s home was sacred and precious to me, in the nest of our homeland and in our small quiet town, and my entire soul longs for it nonstop – so is the memory of my love precious to me and holy, who struck roots into my heart previously, and they still exist in the depths of my being, – and I long for her with all my heart...

The ember of my ancient love awakened, my first love!

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Notes

[126a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak treats Saturday night not as the beginning of day 1 of the week, but as part of the lingering Sabbath and still the same date as the Sabbath day. See my earlier discussion on Nov. 20, 1915 note 94b and Aug. 8, 1915, note 50a.[HS] ↩

[127] It is possible he is referring to the poem, “Death of Joab,” (see [Heb.] pages 92, 121) [see Nov. 2, 1915, and Jan. 7, 1916]. ↩

[January 23,1916] Sunday night (“lel yom aleph”)^[127a] 18th of [the month of] Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

I didn’t intend to write now at all, but “my daily” [diary] is laid out before me on the table and when I passed my eye over recent matters recorded before the present one – I took up my pen in hand to transmit concerning this matter some other things.

With the memory of my first love, which apparently is genuine, I recalled the difficult sin that I can’t forgive myself for, for which there is no absolution, in my opinion – this is my great spiritual sin committed a month ago from great recklessness and an errant spirit, allowing myself to think and believe that it was like love as it were!

I don’t wish to even write or dredge up the matter in more clarity on the pages of my diary, because in being reminded I am ashamed and will turn red with embarrassment, why was she able to bring on such recklessness. Yes, now I see all the ludicrous sides of the matter, and with this, the stupid and foolish side. Were it not for my partiality to my diary,^[127b] and attribute great value to all its words without any distinction, since all of them are from my life and are able to serve me occasionally as pleasing memories at difficult times in a person’s life. – otherwise I would tear these pages from “the daily” [diary], and together with this also the present page, in which I mention my sin. I want to uproot it completely from my dairy and so there won’t be even a portion in my memories…but this [step] too I will renounce, given [113] the discussions found in the entries of these pages about my state of mind here in a foreign country, far from parents and all the beloved members of my family, tortured with sadness and sick with longings for them. All of these matters which are my “Holy of Holies,”^[127c] I cannot uproot from my dairy. This would be like uprooting them from my heart, and if not for them, I would have no doubt that I would completely tear out the pages mentioned above from my diary. But I will still let them be and if possible, instead of “death via tearing,” I will sentence them to “death of erasure,”^[128] which won’t disturb the other matters. It’s a shame, a shame! Remembering this is also hard for me....

And all this rose up in my thoughts in passing my eye over the recent words of the entry before this one, [namely,] recalling that I felt natural and true love only towards my pretty Devorah, only her and no one else. And on the momentary recklessness and simple stupidity of the moment (benot rega) – none are supervising. Yes, all this is like billowing smoke. But even so, this is difficult for me as a temporary matter. Forgive me my natural and true love! I transgressed! Behold, I acknowledge with my whole being that I am guilty! I will not forgive myself for this forever! But you forgive me!...

Yikes! How are my beloved parents faring? How about the welfare of my beloved aunt, my sisters, my brother-in-laws, and children? How are all our beloved family members, our cousins? And how pretty and beloved Devorah? If you only knew how much my love for you has erupted!

Yikes, if only I could know the welfare of you all, and if only you were able to know about our wellbeing.

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Notes

[127a] [Translator’s comment:] It is clear by “night of day one” (lel yom aleph) here Yitzhak means Sunday night, though in traditional Jewish language, the night of day one is Saturday night. Yitzhak already wrote in his diary on Saturday night and called that “after the Sabbath” (Motzei Shabbat Kodesh). This entry is another example where Yitzhak’s language deviates from the traditional Jewish ways of describing night. Here Yitzhak is calling Sunday night, the “night of day one” of the week. In traditional Jewish calendar reckoning, Sunday night would be the night of day two. Yitzhak is probably using civil calendar concepts here (Sunday night being part of Sunday day) or less likely he got himself confused because he called Saturday night, “motzei shabbat” instead of night of day 1. See Aug. 8, 1914, where he calls Saturday night, “night of day 1” (lel yom aleph). For a longer discussion, see Aug. 8, 1915, note 50a and Nov. 20, 1915, note 94b. [HS] ↩

[127b] [Translator’s comment:] Understanding the Hebrew nwšʾ pnym to mean show partiality as in Biblical Hebrew, for example, Malachi 2:9 or Deut. 10:17. [HS] ↩

[127c] [Translator’s comment:] The description of the inner sanctum of the Tabernacle and later Temple where God dwells (Ex. 26.33, Ezek. 44:13]. Yitzhak uses the term to describe his diary and his precious innermost thoughts.” [HS] ↩

[128] Lamdan passed diagonal lines of erasure over the description of his love for Zahava Bortnik on pages 107-111 and 114 [in Heb. edition], clarifying his reason for that. [See entries for Dec. 7, Dec. 11, Dec. 18, and Dec. 22, 1915 with notes about where Yitzhak marked his entries with an X.] ↩

February 1916

[February 1, 1916], Tuesday night, 28th of [the month of] Shevat, 5676, in the terrible period, in the village of Hubyn [Pershyi]

For about two weeks, I didn’t in my diary at all. Why? – I don’t know myself. All day I am occupied and also at the beginning of the night I am still busy and afterwards, before I have the necessary free time – the hour of sleep arrives. What remains are a few short hours for some work, and also during these hours, you sit, ponder and think, and a certain laziness rules you and doesn’t allow you to do anything.

[114] Recently, I experienced a growing loneliness. I don’t have here anyone with whom to share my innermost soulful impressions in particular or my various ideas – in general. I love to converse about literary matters and various questions that are chewed on (Heb. “cut or grated”) in our Hebrew world, but here I don’t have such people with whom I am able to converse with in such matters, their mere language knowledge certainly doesn’t give them also the ability to understand literature, etc.

Therefore I am very sorry that after the first meeting with Mr. Berger ^[129] from Lobachivka and after his promise to return and spend^[129a] several hours with me – I still haven’t seen him yet, and he hasn’t come here; and also the letter to Yermeyahu that I sent with the Jewish ritual slaughterer [Heb. “slaughterer and examiner”] from Boremel – remains with no results. I addressed the letter to Mechael,^[129b] who definitely already knew to whom to deliver it – but the slaughterer informed me that Mechael does not know the person to whom the letter was sent. Apparently, Yemeyahu was not his house guest in Boremel at all, because if he was there, would it have been difficult for Mechael to find him and give him my letter? But in as much as the indications that the Jew Yaakov Gelbman^[130] from Berestechka gave me – it is impossible that he isn’t in Boremel, if not Yemeyahu himself then [certainly] his brother Yaakov [called Yankel earlier]. In any case, my letter was not delivered. A shame!

Last week I wrote something interesting, interesting to me from the perspective of its special contents. In the entries in my current “daily” [i.e., diary], I already mentioned several times the religious feeling that was growing stronger in me recently, a hidden lofty feeling, imbuing the heart with admiration and respect for religion and all its holiness, and uprooting from the heart angry prayers to the God of Israel in this difficult hour.

On this foundation, I wrote a kind of prose poem, about my standing before the religion and wanting to take shelter in the shadow of her wings.^[130a] This item [the poem] is already almost finished. But it still demands much improvement and work, and after I work on it required, – it is possible I will return to speak about it in the pages of my diary.

Likewise, I slowly continue my lyrical poem, the contents are drawn from my present life in a foreign country and from my difficult state of mind being torn from my parents, after the home (lit. nest) of our native land was destroyed and the wandering here like a lamb that strays from the flock.^[131]

[115] In general, I feel that I still haven’t captured the entire “essence,” (except perhaps that which relates to my Zionism and my nationalism). I am still a bubbling and boiling cooking pot in which everything used is in disorder; this goes up and this goes down; this goes down and this goes up; this leans left and this – right, and behold this goes left a second time, and this– right a second time. What seemed to me yesterday to be a necessary thing, or suitable and fitting for my situation – appears to me the following day to be stupid, unsuitable and inappropriate, and thus it goes round about. All the feelings still boil inside me without order and the essence can’t be felt among them in general... and therefore in my writing something over a period of time, it is possible to find many discrepancies and contradictions on that same topic because what I wrote feeling positively about yesterday, I hate today in another way...

What yesterday was so very close to my heart – its reception is chilly the following day, and I am drawn to the thing that yesterday that I didn’t desire to know and from which I fled.

Look how in my previous entry I flung difficult words at “moral mistakes” that I committed several weeks earlier and what sadness this sin^[131a] error caused me, all of it, all of it was written in the previous entry with so much emotional and genuine feelings, and now here the feeling arrives a second time, the one I was so against in the previous entry and in several entries before that. And again I began to feel a certain closeness 1. 30. 10. 5.^[132] [i.e., “to her.”]. In the end I am young and, despite the ravages of time, youthful feelings still bubble inside me. I know that it is possible this is only temporary, and afterwards, another feeling, the brightest of all, may attack me and redirect me to leave it all and spit on it all, and be strengthened with your difficult heartfelt sadness.

Recently, we tried in different ways to send letters to our family members in Baranovka. We tried to send several postcards via Berestechka, one letter via a “Red Cross,” and now here we are sending [postcards] via Chaykl Weitz via [the organization]“Ezra.” If it was received or if one of all of these was received – who knows?

Yikes, if only our beloved [family members] would know about our wellbeing, and we – about theirs!

Yikes, if only our beloved [family members] would know about our wellbeing, and we – about theirs!

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Notes

[129] Shimon Berger, who was mentioned in earlier pages and also in Diary 3, page 199. Lobachivka is also called Liboshivka or Lobtshivka, a small town in the district of Volyn, located about 10 km [6.2 m] northwest of Berestechko, 13 km [8 mi] southwest of the town of Boremel and 50 km [31 mi] south of Lutzk. The three small towns, Berestechko, Boremel, and Lobachivka, which are close to each other were called “Babel” [Bavel is Hebrew for Babylonia] for short by the residents and sometimes referred to themselves as “immigrants to Babel.” [Translator’s comment:] See January 12, 1916 and note 122 on Shimon Berger’s visit to Yitzhak’s home in 1914 and his disparagement of his Zionist goals. [HS] ↩

[129a][Translator’s comment:] The Hebrew term (lhšʿwt) appears to be the hiphil form of the stem šāʿâ which typically means “to suspend.” Here context clearly implies Yitzhak means “to spend time with.” He apparently has the meaning of the qal form of the verb šāʿâ which is a flowery way of saying “to pay attention.” [HS] ↩

[129b] [Translator’s comment:] [Translator’s comment:] Pronounced “Me-cha-el” in Hebrew. Possibly someone Yitzhak knew in Boremel or one of the men from Boremel whom Yitzhak spoke to on January 12. [HS] ↩

[130] No details are known about him. [Translator’s comment:] Possibly the man Yitzhak spoke to on January 12 who told him a young man and his brother from Mlynov were staying with him in Boremel. Yitzhak concluded based on the description they were Yermeyahu and his brother Yankel. [HS] ↩

[130a] [Translator’s comment:] “Shadow of her wings” alludes to the rabbinic and mystical concept of the imminent divine presence in the world as the feminine “Shechinah” which is often depicted with wings to symbolize God’s protective, nurturing and sheltering presence. The invoking of feminine imagery here may be stimulated by his feelings of attraction once again to Z. B. that he describes below. [HS] ↩

[131] Lamdan does not speak again about this poem [in his diary]. This poetic task consumes eight years after this in writing the chapters of the Land of Israel poem “Masada,” Tel Aviv: Hadim: 5687 [1926-1927]. [Translator’s comment:] It seems probable that the lyrical poem Yitzhak is referring to is the one he called “In A Foreign Country” in earlier entries (see Nov. 2, Dec. 11, and Dec. 18, 1915). It is interesting that Yitzhak here refers to the destruction of the “nest of his native land,” when he just recently learned that his home was in fact still standing, mentioned in his entry from Jan. 12, 1916. [HS] ↩

[131a] [Translator’s comment:] Normally, I have not translated the words that Yitzhak scratched out, but this one seemed significant. He scratched out the word ḥēṭʾ which can be translated as Earlier he described his passion for Z. B. with the word that can be translated as either “sin” or “offense.” That’s the word he scratched out now and corrected with the word ṭāʿût that unambiguously means “mistake” or “error” and removes the religious association with sin. Here in this entry, he no longer feels that his passion towards Z. B. is unnatural or a sin. See Dec. 18, 1915, where his language carries overtones of sin. [HS] ↩

[132] The numbers represent letters: Alef, Lamed, Yod, He, in order to encode the word “to her” (ʾēlêhā), in other words to Zahava Bortnik. ↩

[116]

[February 6, 1916] Sunday night, 3rd of [the month of] Adar I, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

All of me is amazed and surprised by the matter that I am currently taking an interest in now. And how unsteady is my spirit which does not stay [focused] in one place. Look how in one of my previous entries I flung harsh and sharp words filled with unvarnished truth at myself, about my committing a heavy moral sin, for allowing myself to believe for several days that I was in “love” with Z. B. and how sorry I was about this sin. How I wanted to rip up those pages of the “daily” [diary] that were written during the few days of that “love.” But I wasn’t able to tear them up then due to the other topics that were included in those pages, and in reprisal, I at least drew red lines with my red pencil over those words, indicating that: “those words were not appropriate to be written.”

Now, look how I am amazingly seized a second time by this love net and this vitality many times over… Now she truly bewitches me and she captures my entire heart… I feel strong love towards her, love so strong…her fair looks caress me so much… her bright smile – like dew on my hurting and yearning heart – so very pleasant to me, very much. And she is truly so good and nice, so agreeable. And she also is nice to me. That is not to say, whether [she is nice] to me especially…but, it seems to me that she already feels that…especially because of this: after our relationship got much closer a second time, I began to chat with her more frequently, and gradually I revealed to her the existence of my poem, “Meeting,”^[134] that was written back “then” (during the first days of love). Obviously, I didn’t tell her that the poem was dedicated to her, but she beseeched me to show her this poem. I, of course, rebuffed her request saying that it was impossible for me to share this poem, but on one occasion when she implored me very intensely, I wrote to her the following words: “But if the poem were dedicated to you, in such a case would you be interested in reading it and how would you relate to it?” Her answer was affirmative, and these words quite emphasize the tendency of the poem… and I promised to show her this poem. But the next day when I thought carefully about the matter – I regretted that I promised to show her my poem. I wrote to her another time that internal reasons prevented me from showing her the poem – after thinking about the matter more fully and considering it [117] from all sides and in all aspects. But she continued despite this to press me and in any case my heart was moved and was attracted more and more to her, and I decided to give her this poem. But I want to give her the poem in combination with a note to clarify for her the essence of the poem and under what influence it was written. And in [the writing of] this note, I am now engaged.

This is what I think to myself: what am I doing now during an emergency time like this?! How do I dare take an interest now in this? The sadness is so vast, the suffocation so very strong. How? Why?

But I also think that precisely because of all this I don’t need to allow the sadness and grief to eat my heart entirely and to find a trustworthy rung^[134a] for my broken and depressed heart.

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Notes

[134] The poem did not survive. ↩

[134a] [Translator’s comment:] Interpreting the letters ḥwq as the word ḥāwāq meaning “rung of a ladder.” The source of the term is Talmud Babli, Baba Batra 59a. The alternative meaning of ḥwq is “law,” which doesn’t appear to fit the context. [HS] ↩

[February 13, 1916] Sunday night, 9th [actually 10th^[134b]] of [the month of] Adar I, in the horrible period, in the village of Hubyn [Pershyi]

I wrote very little recently even though every day I could have written and I wasn’t lacking [relevant] material. But since I spent all week lodging with Yehezkel [Bortnik], since his wife Devorah was traveling, and he also was absent from the house most of the days during the week – therefore I was not able to record anything, nor write anything there, because I don’t find that house conducive for my doing these things.

I gave her my poem and note, and I received a positive response to them, and in general our relationship is getting much closer in recent days. Sometimes this thing gives me internal satisfaction, and sometimes it causes me some hidden sadness, and pinching grief…

[118] Take today, for example, I was in a very difficult state of mind. Everything, everything troubled my heart. I am convinced by confusion that rules me internally that I am lost among the various strange streets and paths, and I can’t find my way. I am lost among the riddles and different interpretations and am entangled up in them very much and I am so very tired, and in my eyes everything is uninteresting and unimpressive, including love and everything, a respite – I desire. But in this I don’t find rest…

But despite this, I haven’t escaped the net of my latest love in which that ensnared me. When I am with her – my youthful feelings awaken with all their force.

There is another feeling that troubles my heart with all its might. At a time of emergency like this, during difficult and terrible days like these, a time when the world is drowning entirely in a sea of blood and tears and sadness with no end, a time I am the one among the hardest hit survivors [in Hubyn?] who finds himself torn from his beloved parents and family members, a difficult “separation” in which nothing is known by one about the other – and in a situation like this how dare I speak about love?

How dare I squeeze the hands of a beloved?!

If indeed another feeling calls to me [i.e., love]: I am broken, depressed, and I must beg forgiveness, to seek a bit of escape [in love] – if this feeling also is a bit legitimate, the strength of the first feeling [of sadness and grief] is still greater.

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Notes

[134b] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak here referred to Sunday night with Jewish traditional language, as “night of the second day,” (lel yom bet). Yitzhak, however, wrote the 9th of Adar I. Sunday night that week in the Jewish calendar began the 10th of Adar I. Either he got the date wrong, as the critical edition suggests, or he was using the civil conception that Sunday night belongs the same date as Sunday day (i.e., Sunday night was part of Sunday day the 9th). See lengthier discussion on Aug. 8, 1915, note 50a. [HS] ↩

[119]

[February 15, 1916] Tuesday night, 11th [actually 12th]^[134c] of [the month of] Adar I, in the terrible period, in the village of Hubyn [Pershyi]

“I am a bubbling and boiling cooking pot in which everything used is in disorder; this goes up and this goes down; this goes down and this goes up.” With these words I pointed out my current character in one of my previous entries [Feb 1, 1916],^[135] and indeed this is how it is with me, “I am still a bubbling and boiling cooking pot.” Various conflicting feelings bubble inside me: ideas, inconsistent and transient thoughts in my mind, – and no respite inside me. All of this depresses me, exhausts me – and is difficult for me. Adding to my troubles and difficult personal situation, in addition to my known and frequent worry that is a throughline among the entries of this current “daily” [diary] – is general sadness and grief, and as my heart is burdened with various life questions, difficult questions, I continue to delve into the general riddles of life, and my heart absorbs this sadness inside also…it is very difficult for me…

There are moments that I become hard as a rock, nothing tortures me, nothing rocks me, and I am fed up with everything, with everything, even with things that I sometimes consider precious and loved, what a strange feeling attacks me then.

I was in such a state tonight and in such moments, therefore, my relationship to Z. B. also weakens, but afterwards, she sat with me and I revealed to her a bit of my state of mind. We stayed like that for a long time and talked.

[120] I revealed a great deal to her about my character and my [emotional] state, and I saw and felt that this conversation drew me very close to her.

And how should I, myself, relate to our mutual relationship? Surely, I need to answer and clarify for myself this [question] but I am not able to do so. I am jumbled up, “a boiling cooking pot”… and sometimes I connect to this matter [the relationship] intensely and addictively, and sometime derisively and with belittlement towards myself…

My external situation has become difficult lately and I suffer because of it. I know that Devorah, the wife of Yehezkel, is unjustly annoyed with me, because during her absence I didn’t stay in her home every day. But what can I say? –I have nothing to say for myself, except to cry and whine in secret, but the heart has petrified, the well of tears has dried up in me, and thus my heart cries and cries in secret. Likewise, the matter caused me much regret, that every time that Mr. Yehezkel travels someplace, I need to stay there, which isn’t pleasant for me, and I am not able to write and read there.

Because sleep overcomes me, I am going to stop my writing.

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Notes

[134c] [Translator’s comment:] The same issue applies here. Yitzhak either got the date wrong or is thinking about Tuesday night as part of the day preceding night. ↩

[135] See above p. 127 [Heb.], 28th of Shevat 5676 [February 1, 1916]. ↩

[February 19, 1916] Saturday night, (“Motzei Shabbat”), 14th [actually 16th^[135a]] of [the month of] Adar I, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

All of it I want to document, all of it I want to express in full and in detail, but my heart bubbles inside me so such, my spirit is so furious with myself and some completely strange feeling attacks me rending me unable to cut back all my thoughts and feelings sufficiently to put them down on the pages of the diary.

As I mentioned in prior entries, the relationship between Z. B. and me is very close. I began to feel a truly strong feeling of love towards her; our mutual conversations are full of warmth and friendship, [and] matters progressed such that she wrote in my notebook the following words: “My sweetheart! I love you etc.”

Yesterday I told her that I have one question to ask about the words she wrote to me in my notebook. That in order to try [to determine] if her relationship to me is indeed genuine only towards me, since I know that this is not the only time she’s heard words of flattery from admirers [or “lovers”] … since truly I don’t know how she relates to them, and in my desiring to know the true [nature of] her relationship to me, I want to ask her this question: “Whether the words that she wrote to me in my notebook were written for the first time in her life just for me, and that she’s never written this way to others? I wanted to ask her this question, knowing that if she would only reply, it would shed a bit of light on the entire “issue” in general...

Then today in the afternoon as I was walking with her in the village somewhere she needed to go, I wanted to ask her this. But to pop the question suddenly, I didn’t consider proper. I wanted to approach the question in stages via conversation, first asking her if she wrote words in my diary genuinely from the depths of her heart, – her answer was affirmative. After that, I suggested that she answer me the question I proposed to her the night when we sat together and talked in such a very nice emotional closeness: “If her relationship towards me was like that towards all acquaintances, or was the relationship “special” (be-“yichud” [bǝyiḥûd])...”

From here the conflict began, which now boils my entire heart, and I do not know why, and which causes me to get angry with myself, and again I don’t know why.

[122] When I suggested she respond to this question, she said that she didn’t know how to answer because she interprets the question in two ways [i.e., “be-yichud” can mean “a special relationship” or it can mean “in seclusion” implying a sexual relationship^[135b]]. For a long while I argued with her that I meant only one thing, and she should tell me which meaning she had in mind, but she didn’t want to tell me. Finally, she told me: the first meaning [of the question]: “If she relates to me as a friend in the same way as every friend or in a special way (“be-yihud”)? And the other meaning [of the question], she didn’t want me to say in any case, and I of course immediately understood that she was thinking [of the word be-yichud] “as a lover.” After I assured her that I indeed know that second meaning, [and] this is what I truly meant in my question. She told me that she couldn’t respond anymore because this was already something important and difficult. (Justifiably). Afterwards, we entered the bedroom. It was already getting to be evening. We sat by the table. And here the difficult feelings began which I have not succeeded in describing in this [entry] in the diary.

I recognized immediately her hesitation and some disinclination that was visible on her darling face. She said to me (with justification) that this is an eternal matter, and it was not possible for her to answer in the affirmative. I told her if this question is so weighty, and if the matter is so precious and value-laden – why would I take it upon myself? She responded that the matter was easier for me, but for her part the matter was difficult to realize. Matters reached the [breaking] point where I told her to give me my poem and the [accompanying] note that I gave her because I wanted to consider some of the words there. When she handed them over, I said that I would take the poem and note in this way, if she leaves me. She objected to this, saying that the poem was already hers...

These moments were very difficult for me. I sat and talked with her about various matters which I don’t remember clearly enough to bring them up here and she was quiet, but her eyes and face showed signs of sadness and hopelessness…apparently it was also hard for her....

Thus these difficult moments continued and did not produce any results. I spoke and she was silent; I didn’t know what to make of her silence. Afterwards, we walked together “up” to her aunt, Chaya, and this is what said to her along the way [123] among other things: “Tonight I will be with you all. Choose for yourself one of these two [options]: Give me your hand or return my poem and note etc. – And everything will be over…”

During the evening our relationship was not bad, and now that I am visiting with them, it improved very much, such that I didn’t need to take back the poem. After much uncertainty whose source in any case I don’t understand – she extended her hand to me. Now when I was leaving the home, she accompanied me to the door and extended me her hand again. I asked her if it was permissible for me to kiss her hand and she replied, “No, not yet.” I asked her: “and in the future?” – She replied: “I don’t know.” [I said:] And thus it is forbidden now. Tell me because I won’t do anything like this if it is forbidden to me.” “Yes, forbidden,” - she answered – “Bye, good night” – and thus I went.”^[136] I entered here [where I am now] and my emotions inside me are bubbling and boiling so much from the whole day in general and the last moments in particular.

I love her and, at first, I thought that she also loved me. But what kind of love is this if “near this evening” and after, I wanted to kiss her hand and she wouldn’t give it to me…

Why do I humiliate myself so much? Why am I so ingratiating?... Why should I let her truly think that I surrender to her?... How is this?... How dare I degrade myself this way?... I am Yitzhak son of Yehudah Aryeh Lamdan, how dare I ingratiate myself, and before whom? Am I not better than her or not?... How?... I am angry with myself that I permitted myself to become engrossed in this matter in general and that it brings me results like these and causes me such great sadness as if my persistent and terrible sadness is minimal… And amidst all that anger and all that resentment, I am also secretly disappointed that she doesn’t love me as I love her… Secretly disappointed… and what to do? Should you take the poem and note and terminate the relationship completely and remove the salt from the wound [lit. blot out the entire salt from my heart]?...But this is very difficult for me to do. Then what? Continue forward my good relations with her? But can I possibly to relate to her with love like this, if she doesn’t cool her relationship to me… How can I humiliate myself thus? No. My honor [124] and my father’s [or parent’s] honor won’t permit me to do this. I am rich in spirit (even if poor in the eyes of them all, I also have much language [capability]), should I ingratiate myself before just anyone?...

This is the way these options conflict in me and sadden me so much. What to do? But in the end, it seems to me, this situation will not continue for a long time. I will bring an end to this situation, whether to the right or to the left!

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Notes

[135a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak’s dating here is a mistake, as the critical edition makes clear. He is writing on Saturday night (“Motzei Shabbat”), but gives the date on the calendar for Friday (the 14th of Adar I). The critical edition assumes he should have written “the 16th” on the assumption that Saturday night begins the first day of the week, which is the 16th. However, it is more likely Yitzhak meant “the 15th” thinking of Saturday night as basking in the glow of the Sabbath still as he has done on numerous other occasions (see Nov. 20, 1915, Dec. 15, 1915, Dec. 26, 1915, Jan 22, 1916), see earlier discussion on Aug. 8, 1914 note 50a. [HS] ↩

[135b] [Translator’s comment:] In the Jewish legal tradition, the term “yichud” (yiḥûd) [seclusion] is used to describe the seclusion of a woman alone with a man that can lead to sexual contact or relations. Yichud is appropriate for a husband and wife but not for an unmarried woman and man. See, e.g., Babli Megillah 14a. [HS] ↩

[3] [Clarifying the Hebrew to mean] “and go.” ↩

March 1916

[March 6, 1916] Monday, the 2nd day [marking the] new month (Rosh Chodesh) of Adar II, 5676, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

More than half a month has passed during which I didn’t write anything in my diary. There were times that I wanted to write and there was stuff to write, but I didn’t write for external reasons, for example: lacking free time or lacking ink or a pen, and others like these; there were times that I didn’t write from an inner laziness that settled on my depressed and tired soul, a kind of indolence that comes truly from a spiritual exhaustion, from unceasing inner doubt, from the fleeting impressions and thoughts that don’t cease, from the terrible wanderings of the soul that truly deplete my spiritual strength.

At night, in the home of Shlomo Burshtak, there are moments that I don’t want to sleep at all anymore, and I am able to sit and write in the diary or to occupy myself in my other poetic creations, – but I am tired, tired, and I say to myself: Why should I sit several hours to labor on [125] intellectual and emotional creations that will add sadness to my sorrow and exhaustion to my tiredness. It would be better for me to lie down to sleep, to be anesthetized and forget everything, everything – and to rest. To rest! To rest!

See, reasons such as these prevent me from recording, from writing etc.!

I find myself in a difficult state of mind lately, a difficult emotional state, in that as much as I try to transmit one trace of it here on the pages of the diary – I am not successful even in a small part. How is this even possible? Every moment, every second^[137] is full of feelings, various fleeting impressions filled with thinking and deliberation; behold every day is subject to deep thoughts, tangled and interwoven with it, extended, delved into and expanded, by every glance, passing thought, and effort of the hands. Is it possible to put down on paper the network of thoughts and complex emotion like this?… If only a trace of the net or one vestige?

I am already very tired, I am tired from all the thoughts, from all the migration and wandering along all the different inner roads and paths, I am tired and there is no rest inside me. The ancient riddle of life is always new – doesn’t give me rest. The question of life and death [126] capture me in her net as if she seeks her solution… doubt accompanies me on every single step, – afflicts me without mercy. With every look, with every thought and idea, it [the existential questions] puts its dangerous poison, also on the rays of hope that appear sometimes like a driver that casts a heavy shadow on them [the rays of hope] until they disappear from view... and on all these [rays of hope] is further added personal sadness and grief that go arm in arn with afflictions of the soul mentioned above, and all this joins together in terrible confusion of intangible material, bubbling and boiling, and not resting even for a moment. And in a situation like this what of the feelings of youth that I pay attention to? “Love?” Foolishness! This is not how it’s been with me and is not so now! For my part, a soul that is qualified for abstract and sublime, exalted love – I have found it yet… and “my loves” apparently until now, yikes, to my sorrow these are not those [kind of relationships] that I perceive and also are not appropriately called by this name [of love]... These are rather direct results and perhaps compulsions (despite the intent sometimes...) from the heart of a male, from the heart of flesh and blood... – – –

And I cry about this,^[138] and my sadness is great about this in my moments of [127] self-criticism… and a horrible disgust attacks me about the memory of all this – – – – – and then I am sick of everything, fed up and idiotic from everything, I am revolted… the same thing that puts agitation in all my limbs, and to which I am addicted wholeheartedly,^[138a] and further there are moments that I introduce it in a pleasant way which is called “evol” [love spelled backward^[139]] – It saddens and depresses me a lot in moments of self-reckoning when I delve into it and am convinced that it comes from the known dirty source – – – – and the known evidence…. 45 60501704 [hedonism?].^[140] I ridicule myself, “a determined person, ascetic in all things,” etc. All this and similar things attack me in moments of self-criticism, and together with this I continue it into the future, continuing this despite my knowing what’s hidden under the outward veil… “I’m having fun, nothing more”… an idea like this passes frequently through my mind… And indeed there is much truth in this idea… I am having fun and nothing more! This entertainment – it is as if it has become for me some kind of internal feeling of vengeance… retribution against an insulting and vengeful life; vengeance in the same amount that one thinks he is always [128] subjected to, ruled by, in the known period, on the side that is against him – – – even though in the beginning of the discussion, this began with the lines mentioned above, but now the matter has changed – – – – if indeed the discussion has already reached a level desirable in matters like these (not to me of course) but it is not yet able to make any lofty and proper impression, in my knowing that in the end that this comes from the dirty place – kisses, caressing what do they add? … And when you are in moments such as these, and you, from the internal pleasurable movement, – you are angry at yourself afterwards about all this, and you are entirely dumfounded and amazed, angry and disgusted, sorry and bitter, about this.

But I have already written enough about this. Yes, in the end these matters [i.e., his feelings and reactions] also are not always essential with me or fixed with nails, only in these days when my emotional state is very difficult do I grasp these ideas, but there are times that I don’t ask, don’t think and then I am good – – – But almost always these moments of self-criticism arrive and destroy all of it, all of it down to the foundation.

[129] I find myself in a difficult emotional state like this. I am tired. There is no calm. Already I want to believe that I won’t come to know serenity soon… since doubt afflicts me so much with each and every step… since the [question of the] mystery of life doesn’t stop afflicting me…and where is serenity? Where to escape from all this? Short moments of pleasure arrive in the lives of people – what are they, and what is their power that they can lighten my yoke of anguish and doubt?... On the contrary, there are moments of pleasure like this (famously) that long hours after them, terrible sad regret and self-deprecation, and great pain, – fill the heart… and thus I am convinced again during these days, that in the end the only way – is to go to Land of Israel, there is perhaps the only place that I am able to find my rest. That is to say: – I am not sure that there is rest there. No! But it is possible to believe that there I will find it, and possible to hope that there is her place, especially in physical work on the land of our ancestors… the work will banish all of it, all of it, and it will plant only life in the human heart, life without objections and questions, without doubt and uncertainly [130] the simple, natural and nice life of the worker. And rest – if not only in work. In the air of the Land, between the mountains of Galilee and Judah, among the rocks, among the ancient ruins and the charming ancient splendor that is poured over them, in the fine East, in the East, in the East – among the steppes of sand, among the grove of date palms, under the heavens of the East – it is impossible that the soul in pain thirsts for rest [there] – but you will not find serenity [here] among all these [issues], even a little.

But, yikes, Lord of the universe! How far am I from my land – land of the beloved ancestors! Yikes, how far! For what am I now, and where? What of our entire lives? We are all suspended now between the heaven and earth, like living a temporary and provisional life. Ruins, ruins in everything, destruction… desolation… the storm continues to occur unabated, and one cannot sense or know when its end will arrive, the heart hurts. What is this?... What is there?... It is hard all about! There is nothing! Where should you point your soul to dream? How will you now allow the vain hallucination to play before you?

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Notes

[137] [Clarifying the Hebrew to mean] “a second” in modern Hebrew. ↩

[138] The words here are in Aramaic meaning “about this I cry.” ↩

[138a] [Translator’s comment:] Yitzhak’s language and meaning is vague here, but it appears that he is feeling shame over some sort of sexual feeling or experience, perhaps arousal, ejaculation or masturbation. He mentions kissing and caressing later in the paragraph. He feels that what he is experiencing is shameful and not in concert with lofty feelings of pure love. He feels that what he is experiencing is shameful and not in concert with lofty feelings of pure love. The anxiety expressed here and earlier in Yitzhak’s diary, about his sexual feelings and their associated moral weakness, was evident in the writings of Zionist thinkers of the time and the diaries of those who were part of the Second Aliyah. See, for example, Boaz Neumann, Land and Desire in Early Zionism. Trans. Haim Watzman, Waltham: Brandeis University, 2011. [HS] ↩

[139] [The Hebrew word] “love” with the letters reversed. ↩

[140] These numbers are scrawled in difficult to read handwriting above the line, as two series with space between them [like this]: 45 605010704; If we try to convert them to their [alphabetical] values in Gematria, the most logical possibility is: 4, 5, 6, 50, 10, 7, 40, the values of which in Hebrew letters is “dh wynzm.” If we assume that there was an additional encoding in which Lamdan flipped the order of letters in the first unit (the one on the right in Hebrew) like he did with the word “love” in the middle of this column, we get hd wynzm, which can be read as “hedonism.” ↩

[March 7, 1916] Tuesday night, 3rd of [the month of] Adar II, in the terrible period, Hubyn (Pershyi)

Today I am in a different state of mind from the previous days that produced the previous entry… I was overly hasty a bit… and too close to her, with strong love and becoming close – – and she so close to me, loving me very much. How much she believes in me!...

Towards evening when I taught Nehama [Z.B.’s sister], silence ruled in the house. The children left. There was silence. At twilight, some hidden, confused feeling attacked me. During these moments, I couldn’t control myself, and from the deep internal feeling, a small poem called “At Twilight”^[141] came quickly from my pen describing my state of mind at these moments, an unfamiliar situation since I don’t know in which world I am.^[141a] See how the best and nicest words truly came from my hand quickly while the influence had not yet left you and the whole feeling still bubbled in your heart, and then you finished writing before they subsided – from your pen emanated a creation pleasant and true.

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Notes

[141] The poem did not survive. ↩

[141a] [Translator’s comment:] It appears that the “unfamiliar situation” refers to the experience of the poem issuing quickly from his pen while his feelings were still present, whereas normally, as he described in the previous entry, he felt he couldn’t capture in writing what was going on in his mind while it was happening. [HS] ↩

[March 11, 1916] Saturday night^[141b] 7th of [the month of] Adar II, in the terrible period, Hubyn [Pershyi]

The hour is late already now. Everyone is already sleeping. Even here in the home of Shlomo [Burshtak], and also at [Z. B.’s aunt] Chaya’s,^[141c] and I sit alone by the light of the oil lamp and write my present entry.

I had an interesting evening this very evening.

For several days I prepared myself to speak a bit with Z. B. and to touch on her most concealed heartstrings with respect to her relationship with me. And this evening we spoke a bit, and I am convinced that she indeed feels close to me and loves me truly.

I was constantly doubtful that her love towards me truly flowed from the depths of her heart. Despite her drawing extremely close to me, it seemed to me, that this was a casual and passing feeling on her part. Why did it seem this way to me? Because I knew that others already related to her with expressions of love, and even though I didn’t know how she related to them, still this very fact, in other words, my knowing that she already had relationships like these, sowed doubt in my heart, if she truly loves me, or whether this was just a causual and passing feeling for her.
[133]

Desiring to know this and to clarify definitively our mutual relationship, I touched on this matter in our conversations this evening. I turned to her with this question: “Whether she already had a relationship like this one that she has now with me?” She didn’t answer immediately. I saw that she got more agitated and also angry with me that I asked her this question, but after I proved to her that there was no reason for her to get angry and that I only ask ask as one who doesn’t know – she answered me that she was responding to me that she hadn’t spoken to any man like this… and that if indeed others already loved her, her relationship to them was not one of love, and she related to no man as to me – – –

We spoke a bit more about this. She spoke with such deep feelings until she shook; And now I can confirm that indeed she loves me, she loves me truly.

I am satisfied from our short conversation this evening, that now new horizons will be revealed in the skies of our friendship; this evening I confirm that there is a soul that cherishes me, she loves [134] truly. And this is good. It is good because at the hour when the heart hurts, when the sorrow attacks all of you and imprisons your soul, and it is so very difficult for you – it is good that you know that is a feeling soul who loves you, who looks on you with the eyes of a nurse [or merciful sister] and who follows you with her gaze during the hour when from great sadness you advance here and there; yes this is good! It is good that you know there is a soul close to you! Where are souls who are closer, more concerned and pained by your fate – than your beloved parents? Have my big artistic hands been capable thus far of describing exactly the treasure of the mother’s heart? Have they been able to describe as much as they try to describe her feelings, her pain, her sorrow, her compassion, her happiness, etc., towards her children? And the feelings of a father? – this is a man who keeps all his feelings towards his children deep in his heart and does not let bring them out in the sunlight, like the mother does, but how many rich treasures of his heart are hidden from sight … yes, the embrace (lit. “lap”) the most trustworthy and good – is the embrace of the beloved parents. And look now in a terrible hour of sorrow like this [135] in which [tragedy] befell our home via the storm that is taking place now across the surface of the world in general, at a moment of emergency like this when we are far from our beloved parents who don’t know our fate, nor we theirs. How horrible is this situation! How terrible is the sorrow and pain, the grief and the bitter and awful thoughts which this situation births between the two sides. How terrible, how terrible! And at this hour that I am far now from the embrace [lit. lap] of my beloved parents and I am so depressed, so broken and fragmented from the recent terrible events and about it all – the separation between us. In a difficult time like this when you are so alone, alone in your inner world, and there are no eyes of a beloved mother, beloved father, and loving sisters following you with their gaze in this troubled hour – is it not good that there is a soul who loves you, sisterly-love? Should I not feel a bit of comfort knowing, that in these difficult moments that the sadness and pain fills my heart until there is no room [left], and they cannot be contained – that there is one soul that secretly thinks about me, and weaves for me a web [136] of thoughts and fantasy.

Furthermore, I love her. I truly love her, because I confirmed that she truly loves me. It is impossible for me to relate to her in a way different than she relates to me; it is impossible for her to relate to me in a way different than I relate to her. I feel that this evening drew up much closer together, further strengthening the relationship between us.

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Notes

[141b] [Translator’s comment:] Here Yitzhak uses traditional Jewish calendrical language and calls Saturday night, “the night of Day 1” and uses the date “7th of Adar,” which begins Saturday night and continues until Sunday at sundown. This language differs from the way he describes Saturday night several times as “Motzei Shabbat” (post Shabbat) and uses the date of the Sabbath itself, as if the Sabbath lingered into the night. See, for example, Nov. 20, 1915; Dec. 18, 1915; Dec. 25, 1915, Jan. 22, 1916. See also the discussion on Aug. 8, 1914, note 50a, and Nov. 20, 1915, note 94b [HS] ↩

[141c] [Translator’s comment:] Z. B.’s aunt was named Chaya and Yitzhak refers to going to her home with Z. B. on two occasions, once on Dec. 7, 1915 when he first locked arms with Z. B., and again on Feb. 19, 1916, when he asked her difficult questions that nearly broke up their relationship. [HS] ↩

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Translated by Howard I. Schwartz
Updated: February 2026
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