Through the doors of suspense he comes,
What is in store, he only knows;
All have to surrender and bow,
To the tribute for deeds what he throws;
All wait to find what he will bestow,
Sometimes blessed in a continuous flow,
Like a Christmas gift in a winter snow;
Whenever he feels confers with mazel tov,
Bringing with it the happiness though,
Sometime escorted with a share of sorrow;
With pain and strain you toil in life’s meadow,
Nature presents fortune with harmony and love;
Thoughts, words and deeds are the seeds we sow,
It is preparation waiting to marry chance, as I know;