sunday, june 13, 1943

dearest kitty,

the poem father composed for my birthday is too nice to keep to myself.

since pim writes his verses only in german, margot volunteered to translate it into dutch. see for yourself whether margot hasn't done herself proud. it begins with the usual summary of the year's events and then continues:

as youngest among us, but small no more, your life can be trying, for we have the chore of becoming your teachers, a terrible bore. "we've got experience! take it from me!" "we've done this all before, you see. we know the ropes, we know the same." since time immemorial, always the same. one's own shortcomings are nothing but fluff, but everyone else's are heavier stuff: faultfinding comes easy when this is our plight, but it's hard for your parents, try as they might, to treat you with fairness, and kindness as well; nitpicking's a habit that's hard to dispel. men you're living with old folks, all you can do is put up with their nagging -- it's hard but it's true. the pill may be bitter, but down it must go, for it's meant to keep the peace, you know. the many months here have not been in vain, since wasting time noes against your brain. you read and study nearly all the day, determined to chase the boredom away. the more difficult question, much harder to bear,

is "what on earth do i have to wear? i've got no more panties, my clothes are too tight, my shirt is a loincloth, i'm really a siaht! to put on my shoes i must off my toes, dh dear, i'm plagued with so many woes!"

margot had trouble getting the part about food to rhyme, so i'm leaving it out. but aside from that, don't you think it's a good poem?

for the rest, i've been thoroughly spoiled and have received a number of lovely presents, including a big book on my favorite subject, greek and roman mythology. nor can i complain about the lack of candy; everyone had dipped into their last reserves. as the benjamin of the annex, i got more than i deserve.

yours, anne