The chain is not torn,
The chain still continues,
From the fathers to the sons,
From generations to generations,
the chain still continues…

The chain is not torn,
The chain still continues,
From nights of joy of the Torah,
Unto nights of the joy of Masada,
The chain still continues…

This was how our fathers danced,
One hand on a brother’s shoulder,
The other hand grasping the book of Torah:
The suffering of the people borne up with love:
This was how our fathers danced.

Thus also shall we dance,
One hand, holding tight the circle,
The load of generations embracing the other:
A book of great sorrow, very heavy is it:
Thus also shall we dance…

Our fathers danced for a time,
Their eyes closed, happily closed,
And the springs of joy were opened,
Their feet were light, oh so light:
With closed eyes:
Our fathers danced.

They knew, they knew, our fathers,
That on the depths of emptiness they danced:
And if they should open their eyes:
The springs of joy would be dammed up,
The chain would crumble into the empty depths,
They knew, they knew, our fathers.
Thus also shall we dance,
With our eyes also closed,
Thus shall the chain continue:
With closed eyes:
Lest it should be ripped and crumble,
Thus also shall we dance…

Thus shall we continue the chain,
The chain is still not broken,
Where shall it lead? Where does it rise to?
Further and further and further and further,
Let us not inquire, let us not ask,
Thus shall the chain continue…