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Zvi Yair

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Why not / As a withered bloom / As a beast of field / Whose time has come / Meek and tranquil / Do I bow my head / And cease?
No sooner Done the deed They always proceed To feed
From the beauty of the creature/ From the longings of the flesh/ Sparks of Your fire/ Strewn there/ By the pound/ Of Your creation-hammer/ Called to him...
I no longer see A table, a chair, a lamp . . . Only letters do I see
One morning, just before daybreak, the stranger took the people to the edge of the valley, and when the early morning breezes drove away the dark clouds, they saw far off in the distance, as if illuminated by a flash of lightning, a green-covered plateau ...
It was three o'clock in the morning, and the Rebbe had seen dozens of people in the course of the night...
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