The last furrow and its dark in the garden,

The day uttered the end of the melody.

A quiet night sealed the picture, in which

the neighborhood rests between light and darkness.

A fisherman collected his last fishing rod.

And the sixth day has already turned to leave.

The city markets, the wings of the dove

donned a white gown.

The table is set and all have gathered.

Lit candles with wine and Challah.

A day of toil has come to an end and whatever is leftover

we shall perhaps begin tomorrow, anew.

A fisherman collected his last fishing rod.