When fear crawls out in the evenings
from all four corners,
when the winter storm raging outside
tells you it is winter,
when my soul trembles at the sight
of distant fantasies,
I shiver and say one word with every heartbeat,
every pulse, every piece of my soul.
Time, go ahead.
Time, which carries liberation
and its unknown tomorrow.
The result is certain.
Everything comes to an end.
Spring will come.
From the diary of Elsa Binder, 30 January 1942.
Verbatim Poetry 