Pátek 9. června 2023, svátek má Stanislava
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Celková vítězka + 1. místo kategorie do 19 let


Should all dreams come true?
Marie Šmilauerová
I was a plain girl
and lived a plain life
till that fateful year
I turned twenty-five.

Till that fateful year
nineteen forty-two
when started my tale
I´ll recount to you.


I was of five kids
with home on a farm
we swam in a river
and played in the barn.

My mum was an angel
so caring and good,
my dad was strict but kind
and worked in the wood.

Aged nineteen I met
the man of my life,
he asked for my hand,
I became his wife.

When our son was born
he brought to us light
life couldn´t be better
the blue sky more bright.

The Fate has its own ways
no-one can understand.
So all our happy days
were coming to an end.

In autumn thirty-nine
whole Europe was in war
and our peaceful life
could continue no more.

The soldiers in streets,
crying, shots and shout,
as if on the town
sank heavy dark cloud.

As if unseen monster
poisoned the fresh air,
all happiness vanished,
replaced with despair.

Those days even luck
seemed to be on ration,
oppression from up
broke pride of our nation.

Our freedom was stolen,
now dictator reigned
and any resistance
was punished and failed.

You couldn´t know well
whom to trust or not,
everywhere was danger,
all could be a plot.

And in those hard times
my husband and I
Would’ve done anything
to make our son smile.

He was our pleasure,
the joy that he gave.
Nothing else mattered
but him being safe.

Fortunately he guessed
just a few of the war,
but fear we were hiding
grew every day more.

Still despite the problems,
poverty and fear,
we lived quite happily
till that fateful year.

Till that fateful year
nineteen forty-two
when someone found out
my grandma was Jew.


One night there were steps,
and banging on the door,
I trembled with fear
from danger they bore.

They burst into the room,
no, they didn´t wait,
I wished I could stop them
but it was too late.

From all they shouted
I understood few
but for me was enough
the fatal word “Jew”.

They searched the room briefly
then to the door stepped,
the door leading to room
where our son still slept.

I cannot describe
the terror I felt
I gave shriek of despair
in front of them knelt.

I would have begged them
not to open the door
but I was hit hardly
and fell on the floor.

They returned with him
after a while,
he looked so frightened,
but he didn´t cry.

I knelt to my brave child,
hid him in embrace,
but they started shouting
we must leave this place.

I didn´t want to,
I tried to stay there,
so they first beat me,
then dragged me by hair.

My dear couldn´t help me
with hands firmly held,
but from his eyes I knew
how desperate he felt.

And with the cruel music
of words “Schnell” and “Raus”
our small sad procession
at last left the house.


Stuck in old lorry,
son slept in my lap,
my beloved hugged me
I quietly wept.

Other startled hearts
all around us throbbed.
Then after few hours
car suddenly stopped.

The journey was nothing
compared to what came:
in twilight of daybreak
we saw cattle train!

At first I just thought
it couldn´t be real –
we are still people
and not only veal!

But all hopes faded
as uniformed men
started to form us
in row without end.

They spurred us with shouting,
abuses and blows,
and we obeyed all orders
that came from our foes.

We climbed into wagons
and sat on the floor
they closed us then inside
and sealed up the door.

Everything seemed like
feverish nightmare:
thirst, smell and weeping
in hot sultry air.

Always someone snored,
always someone cried.
There was fight or two
and some people died.

Now the previous life
seemed so far ago.
In the air of death
it was hard to hope.

Sometimes I just wished
we came to the end,
but I feared a lot
what it might have meant.


It must have been few days
before train stood still;
then we were exhausted,
gaunt and without will.

When the door opened
we blinked in the light,
then started the struggle
to get fast outside.

We had to jump down –
wagons had no steps,
on platform stood soldiers,
death´s-head on their caps.

One man was sorting
people in two streams
I shivered because
I knew what it means.

My husband told us
that at any rate
we must stay together,
we mustn´t separate.

We came to that man
and I held my breath:
He was whistling tune
as not bringing death.

For split of second
He gazed at us and –
showed us to go on
with wave of his hand.

Our relief didn´t
last for long though,
soon there came other
dividing of row.

Grasping and crying
was of no use then;
one way for women,
the other for men.

The last words of love
and I tried to smile,
but burst into tears
when we said goodbye.

Once more my son turned,
waved at me with hand,
then they disappeared
in the crowd of men.


I don´t remember
how long we´ve been here
it can be for months
it can be for year.

The hell we live in
cannot be called life
and my only dream
now is to survive.

I wish I could once more
hear birds, see blue sky
and breathe in the freedom
before I die.

How precious is freedom,
we found out too late,
to suffer in sorrow
seems to be our fate.

Just endless drudgery
and starving all the time,
cruel supervisors
punishing every crime.
Body can be destroyed
but the soul would last
if there weren´t horrors
of the days that passed.

Continuous suffering
torturing our mind
makes us apathetic
and even resigned.

Many of my inmates
are forever gone,
transported somewhere else
or shot by the gun.

Some just disappeared
and no-one knew where
But there were rumours
of rooms with poisoned air.

And though one by one
all give up their life,
my dream continues
I still wish to survive…


My prayers were fulfilled
when one rainy day
in April forty-five
our rescuers came.

I weighed 30 kilos
and was just a shade
they took me to hospital
where for month I stayed.

But where´s my husband
and where is my child?
I continued asking.
Then was told they died.

First I simply refused
they could have been dead,
then I cried for long days
and went nearly mad.

Time brought me no relief
but I calmed down though,
I was then suggested
to return back home…


So now I´m here
back to my life
but I´m no-one´s mother
and no-one´s wife.

I am like stranger
in our small town,
my hair´s nearly white
and I am bent down.

They turn their face away
and with pain I feel
nobody here cares
what happened to me.

In dark stormy nights
when I can't sleep,
I stare in the darkness
and silently weep.

My dream was to survive
and it has come true
but this moment I wish
I rather died too…