in our narrow street
lives one strange carpenter
he sits in his hut
and doesn't do a thing.
no one comes to buy,
and no one visits,
and two years that he
is no longer a carpenter.
and one more dream remains in his heart
to build a throne for Elijah who will come
with his hands he will bring it
to Elijah the prophet
and he sits and waits for him
for years he dreams of being worthy
he keeps his secret and waits for him
when will the day come?
in our narrow street
lives one strange carpenter
he sits in his hut
and doesn't do a thing.
his shelves are empty
they are covered in dust
already two years it's been left alone
the awl in the sack
and he dreams that he is sewing shoes,
a young boy in the mountains will guide the herald's feet.
with his hands he will bring them,
to Elijah the prophet.
and he sits and waits for him...
in Jerusalem there is
a man completely not young,
who built many houses
in all corners of the city
he knows every alley,
every street and neighborhood,
he's been building the city
for seventy years
and he dreams that, like the city he built,
he will place a corner stone for the temple
with his hands he will bring
Elijah the prophet.
and he sits and waits for him...