The links of time
are found in the air,
amidst the whispering wind,
and the evanescent dreams
of the angels, echoing our prayers.
These threads of gossamer
are as fragile as the memories
of our ancestors, drifting in the ether,
until they are purified of the hues
of grey, that cloud the minds
of their relatives on the earth.
Spare us from the flames of Gehenna,
in this life and the afterlife, L-rd;
that we may not be inclined
to repeat the sins of our ancestors,
nor, fail to improve ourselves,
while we have the opportunity,
for the dead perform no mitzvoth;
rather, they are only subject
to the heavenly court,
for what can no longer be undone.
May the upper waters
refresh our tired souls,
like the tears of Heaven,
falling upon the penitent.
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