"My cry is the call of the wounded nightingale. My pleasure is one with death;
it sings all around me and the few souls who tremble here with me in despair are as miserable as I am.
Who will help me, who promises to bring me new breath and good fortune?
God... is the one, let him be praised. I beg for his grace and favor.
He alone knows the extend of my sorrow and my fear."
berlim, judisches museum