שיר הנשמרת [Shir HaNishmeret] [English translation]

The skies run, run, run,

All kinds of shiny circles are at the shutters.

All kinds of things become

Closer and closer.

I am cautious of falling things.

Of fire, wind, songs.

All sorts of winds strike the shutters.

All sorts of birds do speak.

But I guard my soul from them. Nor do I cry.

I remember you asked me to be blessed.

I am blessed, I am blessed.

The skies run.

They do not touch the hair upon my head.

They are nowhere near the wind which comes to me from you.

The skies run to a different place,

And the wind around us, a transparent ring,

As in a heat-wave at evening, we are the moon,

The wind is thick around us.