The last, the very last,
So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow
Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing
against a white stone
. . . .
Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly 'way up high.
It went away I'm sure because it wished to
kiss the world good-bye
For seven weeks I've lived in here,
Penned up inside this ghetto
But I have found what I love here.
call to me
And the white chestnut
branches in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don't live in here,
in the ghetto
Pavel Friedman 4.6.1942
This poem is preserved in typewritten
copy on thin copy paper in the collection of poetry by the poet, which was donated to the State Jewish
Museum during its documentation campaign. Pavel Freidmann was born on January 7, 1921, in Prague
and deported to Terezin on April 26, 1942. He died in Aushchwitz
on September 29, 1944.