בס״ד
Acharei Mos-Kedoshim
Horn-ed he-goat, picked by lot,
Not deserving what he got,
Not offered up, no pleasing smell,
Sent instead to Azazel?
Or assuming now a dubious stature,
All that’s bad in human nature,
Our barbarity, which we restrain,
Given now an angel’s name?
Or was Azazel a mountain high,
Sister peak of Har Sinai,
A ridge that Aaron knew back then,
The title now used once again?
Or demonic shade, in darkness bred,
The scapegoat, with its scarlet thread,
Cast down in order to appease,
Its insatiable voracities?
If Kohen Gadol chose today,
Where to banish our worst away,
Perhaps that realm where spectres dwell,
The tormented pits of Aza’s hell.
No comments:
Post a Comment