From the Diary of Anne Frank

The second section opens with opposing major and minor harmonies that entrap the themes within a twelve-tone game. Playful at first, the games become increasingly menacing, until the whole orchestra is raging. The tumult subsides as the family goes into hiding. The lullaby returns now, first as an elegiac bass trombone solo, then as a tragic procession. The movement ends with a soliloquy for Anne in the quiet night.

The third section takes up Anne’s love of nature and her discovery of love. It is a series of up-tempo variations on Anne’s and Kitty’s themes, finally uniting them.

The fourth section serves as an epilogue to the diary. We hear Anne’s vision for her future, and the world’s. At the last moment the work turns in a new direction, concluding with a somber but hopeful cast.

I appreciate that so much of this work is a reflection not only of Anne Frank, but of Audrey Hepburn. Audrey’s simplicity, her deeply caring nature, the ingenuous sing-song of her voice are all present in the phrase shapes of the orchestra. The work would never have existed without her, and it is dedicated to her.”

—Michael Tilson Thomas

From the Diary of Anne Frank

Part One
I hope I shall be able to confide in you completely, as I have never been able to do in anyone before….

And I hope you will be a great support and comfort to me.

It’s an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary, not only because I have never done so, but because it seems to me, that neither I—nor for that matter anyone else—will be interested in the unbosomings of a
thirteen-year-old school girl.

Still, what does that matter? I want to write—but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

There is a saying that paper is more patient than man—it came back to me on one of my melancholy days. Yes, there is no doubt that paper is patient and I don’t intend to show this notebook bearing the proud name of diary to anyone…unless I find a real friend.

And now I come to the root of the matter, the reason for my starting a diary is—that I have no such real friend.

Let me put it more clearly, since no one will believe that a girl of thirteen feels herself quite alone in the world—nor is it so.

…I have darling parents, a sister of sixteen—I know about thirty people whom one might call friends. I have strings of boyfriends anxious to catch a glimpse of me and, who, failing that, peep at me through mirrors in class. I have relations, aunts and uncles who are darlings too—a good home. No—I don’t seem to lack anything. But it is the same with all my friends—just fun and games—nothing more.

Hence, this diary. I want this diary itself to be the friend for whom I’ve waited so long and I shall call my friend, Kitty…“Dear Kitty”

Part Two

Dear Kitty. So much has happened, it’s just as if the whole world has turned upside-down.

We are all balancing on the edge of an abyss….

No one knows what may happen to him from one day to another. Jews must wear a yellow star…. Jews must give up their bicycles…. Jews must be indoors by eight o’clock and can’t even sit in their own garden after that hour…. Jews are forbidden to visit cinemas, theaters, swimming pools, sports grounds…. Jews may not visit Christians…. You’re scared to do anything…because it may be forbidden.

Daddy began to tell us about going into hiding…hiding. Where would we go? In a town or the country? In a house or a cottage? Where? How? When? These were the questions I was not allowed to ask!

I only know we must disappear of our own accord and not wait until they come to fetch us.

We put on heaps of clothes as if we were going to the North Pole. No one in our situation would have dared to go out with a suitcase. I had on two vests, two pairs of socks, three pairs of knickers, a dress, a jacket, a coat, a wooly scarf, and still more….

We didn’t care about impressions…. We only wanted to escape—to escape and arrive safely. To escape—only this… Nothing else mattered.

Dear Kitty…Years seem to have passed since then. I expect you will be interested to hear what it feels like to disappear. I can’t tell you how oppressive it is never to be able to go outside. We have to whisper and tread lightly, otherwise someone might hear us. We might be discovered and shot….

We are quiet, quiet as mice.

Who, three months ago, would have guessed that quick-silver Anne would have to sit still for hours…and what is more…could! But I am alive Kitty, I am alive—and that’s the main thing!

I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed while my dearest friends have been knocked down or have fallen into the gutter somewhere out in the cold night.

No one is spared—old people, babies, expectant mothers, the sick—each and all join in the march of death.

It is terrible outside—day and night, more of those poor, miserable people are being dragged off. Families are torn apart. Children, coming home from school, find that their parents have disappeared. Women return from shopping to find their homes shut up and their families gone….

And every night hundreds of planes fly over Holland and go to German towns where the earth is plowed up by their bombs, and every hour hundreds and thousands of people are killed in Russia and Africa. No one is able to keep out of it. The whole globe is waging war and the end is not yet in sight.

I could write forever about all the suffering the war has brought but then I would only make myself more dejected. There is nothing we can do, but wait as calmly as we can until the misery comes to an end. Jews wait—Christians wait—the whole earth waits. And there are many who wait for death.

What, oh what is the use of war? Why can’t people live peacefully together, why all this destruction? Why do some people starve, while there are surpluses rotting in other parts of the world? Oh, why are people so crazy!

Until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated and grown will be destroyed, after which mankind will have to begin all over again.

A voice cries within me—but I don’t feel a response anymore. I go and lie on the sofa and sleep, to make time pass more quickly…and the stillness…and the terrible fear….

Part Three

Dear Kitty!!!

I wonder if it’s because I haven’t been able to poke my nose outdoors for so long that I’ve become so crazy for everything to do with nature! I can perfectly well remember when the sky, birds, moonlight, flowers, could never have kept me spellbound…. That’s changed since I’ve been here. Nearly every morning I go to the attic where Peter works, to blow the stuffy air from my lungs.

From my favorite spot on the floor, I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree on whose branches little raindrops glisten like silver…and at the seagulls as they glide on the wind.

As long as this exists…and may live to see it…this sunshine…these cloudless skies, while this lasts, I cannot be unhappy.

The sun is shining, the sky is a deep blue…there is a lovely breeze and I’m longing, so longing for everything.

To talk, for freedom, for friends…to be alone…and I do so long to cry. I feel as if I/m going to burst…and I know it would get better with crying, but I can’t. I’m restless, I go from one room to the other, breathe through the crack of a closed window, feel my heart beating, as if it is saying, “Can’t you satisfy my longings at last?”

I believe that it’s spring within me. I feel it in my whole body and soul.

It is an effort to behave normally…I feel utterly confused…don’t know what to read, what to write, what to do only know that I’m longing…. We are having a lovely spring after our long winter. Our chestnut tree is already quite greenish and you can even see little blossoms here and there…. Our chestnut tree is in full bloom, fully covered with leaves and more beautiful than last year.

Is there anything more beautiful in the world than to sit before an open window and enjoy nature…to listen to the birds singing, feel the sun on your cheek…to be held…to be kissed for the first time.

The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely, or unhappy, is to go outside somewhere where they can be quiet—alone with the heavens…nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy amidst the simple beauty of nature.

As long as this exists…and it certainly always will…I know there will always be comfort for every sorrow.

And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles. Mother Nature makes me humble and prepared to face every blow courageously. Nature is just the one thing that really must be pure.

Do you gather a bit of what I mean? Or have I been skipping too much from one subject to another? I can’t help it—they haven’t given me the name “Little Bundle of Contradictions” for nothing. I’ve already told you that I have, as it were, a dual personality. The first is the ordinary—not giving in easily, always having the last word. All the unpleasant qualities for which I’m renowned. The second, that’s my secret. I’m awfully scared that everyone who knows me as I always am will discover that I have another side—a finer and better side. I’m afraid that they’ll laugh at me and think I’m sentimental and not take me seriously. I believe if I stay here much longer I shall grow into a driedup old beanstalk. And I did so want to grow into a real young woman. I’ve made up my mind now to lead a different life from other girls…and later different from ordinary housewives. I am young and possess many buried qualities. Every day I feel I’m developing inwardly and that the liberation is drawing nearer. Why then should I despair?

Part Four

I want to go on living even after my death

…and I am grateful to God for giving me this gift of writing—of expressing all that is in me.

I can shake off everything when I write—my sorrows disappear. I can recapture everything.

Perhaps I shall never finish anything…it may all end up in the wastepaper basket…or burned in the fire. But I go on with fresh courage.

I think I shall succeed.

It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals…because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death. I see the world being turned into a wilderness. I hear the everapproaching thunder which will destroy us too. I can feel the suffering of millions.

…and yet…if I look up into the heavens, I think it will all come right, that this cruelty will end… And that peace and tranquility will return again.

In the meantime, I must uphold my ideals, for perhaps the time will come when I shall be able to carry them out. For in spite of everything, I still believe people are really good at heart.

Dear Kitty…

Courtesy: Anne Frank Foundation