Literature and Poetry
As I Recited the Blessing Over the Candles
Far Away at the Edge of a Gaze
I don't Need Anything
Just Like this, as I Walk
My Mother of Blessed Memory
Shabbat in the Group
There is an Hour That the Light
To Light the Candles
Each individual and his Shabbat.
One may elevate the lights of his Shabbat in a storm
And his life becomes their blaze and their glare is immense,
Another may build his Shabbat with tiles of tears,
And the luster of Shabbat is like the sparkle of tears,
And there is a person who spends his days spreading his hands out to bless Shabbat
But he does not come near it.
Each person and his Shabbat.
But there is one Shabbat – of the world.
One hall which is the Shabbat of the world.
From candles of blood,
From glittering tears of treachery on weekday nights
there is but one Shabbat of the world.