An arresting and poignant excerpt from an interview with Isaac Deutscher, courtesy of here:

My father was an orthodox Jew, in love with German culture, philosophy, and poetry. ... He was always wanting to read German literature and German periodicals with me. He had himself, in his youth, published essays in the Neue Freie Presse, the best-known Viennese newspaper; he had been correspondent of the Warsaw Hazefra, the first daily to appear in the Hebrew language; and he had also written a Little book in Hebrew about Spinoza, with the Latin title Amor Dei Intelectualis. Spinoza was one of his heroes; Heine the other. My father also had great respect for Lassalle, but the highest intellectual ideal for him, apart from the Hebrew writers was, of course, Goethe. I did not share my father's partiality for German poetry. I was a Polish patriot. Mickiewicz and Slowacki were dearer and closer to me. For this reason I never learned the German language thoroughly either. My father used to often say to me: 'Yes, you want to write all your fine poetry only in Polish. I know you will be a great writer one day' - for my father had a quite exaggerated idea of my literary talent, and wanted me to exercise it in a 'world language'. 'German', he would say, 'is the world language. Why should you bury all your talent in a provincial language? You have only to go beyond Auschwitz ...' - Auschwitz was just near us, on the frontier - 'you only have to go Auschwitz, and practically nobody will understand you any more, you and your fine Polish language. You really must learn German.' That was his ever-recurring theme: 'You have only to go beyond Auschwitz and you will be totally lost, my son!' Impatient as I was, I often interrupted him: 'I already know what you are going to say, father - You have only to go beyond Auschwitz, and you will be lost.' The tragic truth is that my father never went beyond Auschwitz. During the Second World War he disappeared into Auschwitz."