One year, on the day of Yom Kippur, the bright tongue was detached from my mouth
and in its place rises a red cry of women
A hand was placed heavily on a body, with glorious voluptuousness.
I am calling now to all the bruised tongues - don't confuse us!
Present yourself to the world as you are,
drinking blood from the daily cliff,
Because there is no sin in God.
I repeat: there is no sorrow for the sin, there is no sorrow for the deeds.
I call to all the holy crowd to whisper "prayer is right"
And Oz allowed the criminals to come in the crowd, for all the knockers
on their hearts and asking for forgiveness
"For the sin that we have sinned by revealing nakedness" -
Leave it to the empty mutterings of the wild.
They have already put it to the broken pottery.
It is not God who is protected by the bow of forgiveness.
You don't have the shofar of the request.
I am calling all the Hebrews
that the vows of silence that were sworn to others are binding and exist forever,
Belittle yourself, don't lie.
Get rid of practical righteousness.
I'm calling now to all the squealing plates
to present the true color, to all languages
put in the right mouth, for all the secrets
to go to hell
were we wrong
We will fix it!
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