בס״ד
Chayei Sarah
No familial warmth for Avraham,
No eineklach on his knees,
Seven sons he casts away,
Plus the one he never sees.
Quite a tragic figure,
If you think about his life,
This lonely man of God,
Who lifted high his knife.
Yitzchok, too, will see no joy,
One son cries out in pain,
Then off will flee the younger boy,
And not be seen again.
Somber seem our sires’ tales,
Sorry songs of sadness,
Not the ore I’m digging for,
As I mine this world for gladness.
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