Panny z Wilka (The Young Ladies of Wilko)



upset Jurek's orderly life.

He left before finding out...

that all we decide and

consciously do...

means absolutely nothing.

And that which we do unwittingly,

remains, pursuing us...

or worse, we end up pursuing it.

Oh my God! Wiktor!

What is it?

What were you thinking

about today...


I was wondering if...

at the moment of death...

we feel our bodies as one

enormous pain...

and does awareness come off our

skin like a bandage...

off a wound?


And what is the relationship

between our body and its torpor?

I found this in Father

Jerzy's desk.

I'm giving it...

to you.

He wrote poetry?

What is my life's measure?

Arrant nothingness.

From which my sad song will

flow to your shores.

And nothing shall after

me remain...

save that song, save the shimmering

shadow on the wall...

a passing dream...

save a wooden coffin...

awash in the gloom of dusk.

So that's how he thought?

Does it make itself felt?

It reminds me sometimes.

And I can't stop thinking

about Jurek.

I can't forgive myself...

for not foreseeing that

it might happen.

But there was so much work, new

greenhouses, lack of fertilizer...

worries, arrangements, trips.

So I finally left...

and here, upon, my return...

such tidings.

It was that rotten Warsaw weather.

He ran around, ill-dressed,

until he caught a cold.

Yes, it was pneumonia.

An ordinary man, quiet, simple,

God-fearing, hard-working...

and my only friend.

The world is a terrible place.

Chiefly because of death.

We cannot deny death.

It's the only real value

we possess.


I want you to leave for three weeks

and I'll inform Mother Superior.

But there's so much work to do on

the farm, and without me...

Please go, you can be replaced.

Don't you have family and

friends in the country?

You really must go.


Based on a story by

Jaroslaw lwaszkiewicz

Screenplay by


Set design

Director of photography

Directed by

Are you here to see Mr. Kawecki?

Fela? Lt's me.


Kazia, it's Wiktor!

Good evening.

My God, Wiktor!

I was on my way to my uncle's place

and thought I'd...

- We asked them about you.

- They knew nothing.

All these years without any news or

a single letter, shame on you!


You are a legend here at Wilko.

I was just saying yesterday,

if Wiktor were only here...

I really am surprised...

I never would've thought...

I was silent, certain in the belief

that no one here remembered me.

It's not true.

We come here for...

the summer holidays.

Don't you recognize me?


We're all here now quite by chance.

I don't see Fela.


This is my oldest, and my other

one, such a big girl.

They're both big.

I didn't know you were married.

But I meant adult Fela.


Where's our grown-up Fela.

Don't you know?

She died.

Sit down.

I'll show you her grave.

Will you stay for dinner?

No thanks, I'm in a hurry.

But I'd like some horses.

You'll have some tea.

- Yes, ma'am?

- Hitch the horses.

I've heard nothing about you

for fifteen years.

Don't count them!

I have no idea of what's

been going on...

who's married and who's not.

I don't want to commit any gaffes.

Off to bed, children.

I'm married with two children.

Kazia's divorced, one son.

Jola's married, but no children.

Tunia's unmarried...

and Zosia's married and has a son.

What about you?

What's there to say?

I fought in the Polish-Soviet War.

I was at the battle of Kiev.

I'm a retired captain.

I work, managing a farm

near Warsaw.

I live a normal life.

I don't do anything important.

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