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The Bratzlav Rabbi to His Scribe
- Abstract
Nathan, no thought today.
Have you ever seen a world
With splendors so serene?
I’ll slap you
If you squeeze forth a thought.
Are you sick of living?
Live with all your limbs
And breathe sun like a midge.
Let us begin to return.
Let us think away our wealth
And squander thoughts at each turn.
Let us become holy peasants
With holy cows, on a holy pasture.
Let us eat porridge and milk
Let us smoke stinking pipes
Tell whoppers about elves.
Let us sing:
Die-donna-die, die-donna-die.
No words, all melody:
Die-donna-die.
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