From Sunday to Friday afternoon

Rabbi Shalom Shabazi sits in the shop

He weaves and spins, cuts with scissors

He loves his work – and hates arguments

In the twilight

On the Temple Mount

He comes to pray

To Jerusalem

Every day from sunset and all the night

Rabbi Shalom Shabazi holds his pen

From his window he sees Jerusalem

And then like fire his song breaks out

 

In the twilight....

 

From Friday and until Sunday every week

Rabbi Shalom Shabazi leaves the city

Like on every Sabbath he flies on the wings of the wind

To the Western Wall that survived in the City of David

 

In the twilight...

 

From Sunday and until Friday afternoon

Rabbi Shalom Shabazi returns to sewing

In his pupils there is light, it is the light of Jerusalem

Which attaches itself to all who come to its gates

 

In the twilight...