Friday December 26 1941
Miriam Korber
Will we be able to survive?
Everyone ask himself this including me
Wind slaved to blow
True Ukrainian north wind,
The wind of the steppe
It roars in squalls
So much it seems like the house is being lifted in the air
It gets colder and colder
I can see on everyone's face the fear of tomorrow
What will happen?
Perhaps salvation is closing
No one knows