בס״ד
Shevi’i shel Pesach
The gates of music are,
The gates of prophecy,
Or so the Zohar says.
Imagine what we must have seen,
In our song, crossing the sea,
The vision soon lost, as closed the waves.
No two of us sounded just alike,
Each voice a navua of it’s own,
Of that shimmering radiance, one ray.
The music of the words is with us still,
Each letter, vowel, and taam,
A nuance shrouded within the staves.
And each new voice today that sings,
Uncloaks treasures yet unfound in
This song, as we sang it, that day.
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