One of my long-time hobbies has been collecting old photos. Nothing compares to the feeling of rummaging through reams and reams of old photographs at flea markets and wondering: Who were these people? What were their lives like? How did these once-cherished keepsakes end up, anonymised, in a plastic bin at a flea market?
I recently stumbled upon one old photo-postcard from my collection in Bucharest – these were the kinds of photos that people took with a view to sending or gifting them to loved ones that perhaps they didn’t get to see all that often. Sometimes, there’s some writing on the back, offering clues as to the identity of the person in the photograph and/or the recipient’s identity.
Well, this one was quite the find! The photo depicts a pretty young woman affecting to read the book she’s holding up. Her face is partly shaded, presumably by some of the heavy marble-like ornaments she’s flanked by. Tiny writing in blue ink at the bottom spells out a place name (Bucuresti/Bucharest) and a year (1942, I think), presumably the place and year when this photo was taken.
And on the back – oh my! There’s a whole love letter, not from her to her lover, but the other way around, it looks like, though it’s unclear whether he ever showed or gave this declaration of undying love to her.
(I’m no longer sure why I initially drew the conclusion that the letter was written by him to her rather than the other way around. Thinking about it some more, it seems more likely that she wrote and handed it to him as a keepsake. Since I can’t really read the signatory’s first name, only their surname, it could be either way, really.)
The handwriting is pretty tidy, so I was able to decipher most, if not quite all, of it. (Romanian speakers, if you’re able to decipher the words I was unable to read, or if you spot any mistakes, please flag them, do!)
It reads:
[In Romanian]:
“Cu gandul la tine, in noaptea fericirii mele visez, de aici din sufletul meu, din jocul flacarilor ce se pierd in cenuse, chipul tau de fecioara se ridica, din ruinele ce au constrans la pieire o dragoste sfanta, si vine in taina la inima mea sa-si marturiseasca iubirea! Vino! – ea te asteapta, nu a incetat o clipa de a bate pentru tine si pentru dragostea noastra! Nici in tacerea pamantului ea nu va inceta sa bata pentru tine…
Medias 20 Maiu 1943
Amintire [word unreadable] dar neperitoare!
Georgescu [first name unreadable]”
[In English:]
“Thinking of you, in the night of my happiness I dream, from within my soul, out of the dance of the flames that fade to cinders, your virginal face arises, from the ruins that [would] compel a sacred love to death, and it [your face] comes to my heart in secret to confess its love! Come! – it [my heart] is waiting for you, it never for a moment ceased to beat for you and for our love! Not even in the silence of the earth will it [my heart] cease to beat for you…
Medias, 20th May 1943
Memory [word unreadable] but immortal!
Georgescu [first name unreadable]”
What happened to these young people? What were the “ruins that [would] compel a sacred love to death”? This was 1943, so the latter half of World War 2. In January 1943, Romanian authorities had concluded a secret agreement with German forces by which they allowed Germany to establish military bases on Romanian soil. Later that year, the U.S. army would attempt to destroy key refineries in Ploiesti, some 70 km north of Bucharest.
Was the young man conscripted? Did their families object to their relationship? Did they or their families hold opposing political views?
Such a tiny fragment of a love story now lost to time. But to me, it speaks loud and clear of the ravages of war and the stubborn resilience of love.
If any Romanian readers happen to recognise the person in the photo, or the signature, please get in touch.
Encyclopaedia Vanitatum 