| A wealthy merchant sought the wisdom of the Baal Shem Tov
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| Longing to be granted entry to the holy grove
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| Many mountains, many cities, over land and foam
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| Did this man of plenty travel from his splendid home
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| And when he reached the dwelling of this holiest of men
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| He kneeled before the Besht with gold and silver in his hand
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| The wise man led him to the window, showed him all the world
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| There before the wealthy man the human scene unfurled
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| Poor souls floated under clothing, walking on their way
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| Each a dream that dies in waking, each a night that dies in day
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| Then the window was a mirror, blocking out the sky
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| Showing nothing to the merchant but the merchant’s eye
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| «Tell me sir, the wise man questioned, what the difference be
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| Twixt the window and the mirror into which you see?
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| Only silver, only silver coats the glass behind
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| Though the pane may be the same the silver makes you blind
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| Seek the world but seek it clearly free your soul from sin
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| Wealth will surely but reveal your poverty within
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| Break the mirror, melt the silver, give your gold away
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| Let your dream begin in waking, let the night be born in day» |