My Song
The song of the people, my life-song I sang in foreign tones, in a foreign language. It strode toward the sky and rang weak and deafened by strange echoes.
The foreign country coldly and brutally sucked away my strength, in anguish I did not guard my treasure, the Veil remained unopened for me in the Sanctuary of Song.
With dew of anguish the wings are drenched, they are heavy and weary of the roaming path; others will unbolt the bars of the Sanctum in brighter days.
I know, other Levites will reign in the song of the people and sing clearly and bright, and perhaps they will sometimes also recall the one who stood sorrowful at the threshold.
The foreign country coldly and brutally sucked away my strength, in anguish I did not guard my treasure, the Veil remained unopened for me in the Sanctuary of Song.
With dew of anguish the wings are drenched, they are heavy and weary of the roaming path; others will unbolt the bars of the Sanctum in brighter days.
I know, other Levites will reign in the song of the people and sing clearly and bright, and perhaps they will sometimes also recall the one who stood sorrowful at the threshold.
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