Most diwan consist of three separate sections: the a cappella nashid preludethe shira singingduring which celebrants bang on copper trays, empty gasoline cans, or whatever else is handy, and a postlude called the hallel, or song of praise. The unusual percussion accompaniment came into use following the destruction of the Temple, when Jews were forbidden to play conventional musical instruments, and also as a result of periodic oppression by Muslim fundamentalists.
Blues Classical Country. Electronic Folk International. Jazz Latin New Age. Aggressive Bittersweet Druggy. Energetic Happy Hypnotic. Romantic Sad Sentimental. Sexy Trippy All Moods. Drinking Hanging Out In Love. Introspection Late Night Partying. Rainy Day Relaxation Road Trip. Romantic Evening Sex All Themes. Features Interviews Lists. Streams Videos All Posts. Rock of my existence, You are the object of my Lefelach Harimon - Ofra Haza - Yemenite Songs (Cassette And of all that I have, You are my claim to Holiness.
Fly, sweet dove, and hearken my Lefelach Harimon - Ofra Haza - Yemenite Songs (Cassette, On the violin, play. And in Your song, beware, Soar swiftly Do not meander into paths where evil may hide.
Take sustenance and fly And we will take our pleasure Until we are sated. And we will drink of springs of wisdom, And we will sing to the sound of the harp, And You will give song. Pray tell, wondrous Lefelach Harimon - Ofra Haza - Yemenite Songs (Cassette, Tell of the joy in Your naivety. Wise Daughter of Angels, Have you found Your home? Answer, lovely dove, I sally forth to the Palace And in the heart of the vessel And clothes, only, in Your beauty.
Permission has really been given, Regards to You in your crowning. Do not be swayed by cloaked enemies, Lass, And though You Lefelach Harimon - Ofra Haza - Yemenite Songs (Cassette a frontier, Look for its border. Your temples are like a slice of pomegranate, You are more regal than the walls of the highest palace, Your eyes, wide as the doe's, have imprisoned me.
With the eyes of a lovely dove, And lips like scarlet silk, And breasts, incomparable in their beauty, Your heart to my heart, in love, are tied. As white as the rising moon, Quickly skipping like a young girl, I will pay any price for this Lass My heart and my spirit are in Her hands. Sand-Lily of the Sharon, Rose of the Valley, She slipped through my aching fingers, With her head upturned, And left only the pain Of my shrinking heart, No bandages will heal the wounds Inflicted upon my longing heart I ask you, King of Kings Why, why do you torture me?
I believe only in you And anxiously await the rewards of my belief. You punish me in my Diaspora; How long will you ignore my pleas? You, the all-knowing of questions and answers Chastise and agonize me, You neglect me Since I am not one in the Promised Land.
As the pyramid-shaped amber And the pleasant fragrance in the air, When your light is discovered You glitter like a star in the heavens. Oh, Flowing Miracle, Healer or all pain and sorrow Who will bid me drink of the blue liquid And remove all anger and worry from my brow. The Gates of Heaven are open To my tears. How can I win you, love? Do you even know I exist?
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