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I do not lift my supplicating hands,
O King, O Lord, O Father, yon on high,
To You whose throne dwells in the starry lands,
I neither plead nor yet Your might defy.
I do not ask of You to end my…
Vilna, my great matriarch, an established Jewish city,
Jerusalem of the Exile, an ancient nation’s consolation in the north!
This [poem] is your patched kerchief, like the roof of the old synagogue,…