POEM: A Rainy Day Softly above the Village's Jewry

Though it is noon, the sun remains hidden behind the light grey clouds.  I like those clouds.  Some of them are decorated with a darker grey edging and others have a brilliant heart.  The ones near me are rushing somewhere while the others above them remain up static there in the sky.

All of them together seem to me as if an unhappy painter was nervously mixing grey nuances on his palette...but I get somehow a bit cheerful observing from my old small window, the tiny raindrops falling gently on the tiles in the roofs of the lower houses in front of me.

Above the roofs the green fields are looking at me.  They are there, sleeping at the feet of the mountains, quietly as if they were dead.

Leaning my arms on the old woody windowsill; I can't help feeling tired and upset.  Who can see what I see?  Who can here remember the chants in the Synagogue?  I remember the woman covered up with a modest robe, which always was in a hurry when passing by my door.  She was carrying oil to light the menorah when the Kehila had gathered.

But just now my narrow street is fairly quiet and I can't hear the chants anymore...
Today, I won't be able to see the first three stars in the sky.  I will light my candles soon because it's getting darker and darker...

There you are!  My candles on the windowsill!  And after covering my head....Baruch Ata Adonai.......ner shel Shabbat! ..one and....two ! Done!

Now, look at how beautiful the shine from my two candles!  They shine in front of the world and light it and enlighten it!

Shabbat Shalom,
Barzilai Kellajer