After my death mourn me this way:
‘There was a man-and see: he is no more;
before his time this man died
and his life’s song in mid-bar stopped;
and oh, it is sad! One more song he had
and now the song is gone for good,
gone for good!

And it is very sad!-a harp too he had
a living being and murmurous
and the poet in his words in it
all of his heart’s secret revealed,
and all the strings his hand gave breath
but one secret his heart kept hid,
round and round his fingers played,
and one string stayed mute,
mute to this day!

And it is sad, very sad!
All of her days this string moved,
mute she moved, mute she shook,
for her song, her beloved redeemer
she yearned, thirsted, grieved and longed
as a heart pines for its intended:
and though he hesitated each day she waited
and in a secret moan begged for him to come,
and he hesitated and never came,
never came!

And great, great is the pain!
There was a man-and see: he is no more,
and his life’s song in mid-bar stopped,
one more song he had to go,
and now the song is gone for good,
gone for good! (Hayim Nachman Bialik)

אחרי מותי
אַחֲרֵי מוֹתִי סִפְדוּ כָּכָה לִי:
“הָיָה אִישׁ – וּרְאוּ: אֵינֶנּוּ עוֹד;
קֹדֶם זְמַנּוֹ מֵת הָאִישׁ הַזֶּה,
וְשִׁירַת חַיָּיו בְּאֶמְצַע נִפְסְקָה;
וְצַר! עוֹד מִזְמוֹר אֶחָד הָיָה-לּוֹ –
וְהִנֵּה אָבַד הַמִּזְמוֹר לָעַד,
אָבַד לָעַד!

וְצַר מְאֹד! הֵן כִּנּוֹר הָיָה-לּוֹ –
נֶפֶשׁ חַיָּה וּמְמַלְּלָה,
וְהַמְשׁוֹרֵר מִדֵּי דַבְּרוֹ בוֹ
אֶת-כָּל-רָזֵי לִבּוֹ הִגִּיד לוֹ,
וְכָל-הַנִּימִין יָדוֹ דוֹבְבָה,
אַךְ רָז אֶחָד בְּקִרְבּוֹ הִכְחִיד,
סְחוֹר סְחוֹר לוֹ אֶצְבְּעוֹתָיו פִּזְּזוּ,
נִימָה אַחַת אִלְּמָה נִשְׁאֲרָה,
אִלְּמָה נִשְׁאֲרָה עַד-הַיּוֹם!

וְצַר מְאֹד, מְאֹד!
כָּל-יָמֶיהָ זָעָה נִימָה זוֹ,
דּוּמָם זָעָה, דּוּמָם רָעֲדָה,
אֶל-מִזְמוֹרָהּ, דּוֹדָהּ גּוֹאֲלָהּ,
כָּמְהָה, צָמְאָה, עָגְמָה, נִכְסְפָה,
כַּאֲשֶׁר יֶעְגַּם לֵב לַמְזֻמָּן לוֹ;
וְאִם-הִתְמַהְמַהּ – בְּכָל-יוֹם חִכְּתָה-לּוֹ
וּבִנְהִימָה טְמִירָה שִׁוְּעָה-לּוֹ –
וְהוּא הִתְמַהְמַהּ אַף לֹא-בָא,
אַף לֹא-בָא!

וְגָדוֹל מְאֹד, מְאֹד הַכְּאֵב!
הָיָה אִישׁ – וּרְאוּ: אֵינֶנּוּ עוֹד,
וְשִׁירַת חַיָּיו בְּאֶמְצַע נִפְסְקָה;
עוֹד שִׁיר מִזְמוֹר אֶחָד הָיָה-לּוֹ,
וְהִנֵּה אָבַד הַמִּזְמוֹר לָעַד,
אָבַד לָעַד!”

Elul is a time for remembering and reviewing our lives so as to go forward refreshed and with new intent and hope, prepared to do better than before. Rosh Hashanah is also known as Yom HaDin – Judgment day. We are not only going to face our own internal voice, but will do so under the watchful eye and ear of the Eternal One.
This poem by Bialik, who, though he died before the State of Israel came into being, effectively became its national poet, is a good reminder that time is not unlimited, that at some point we need to stop excusing or dissembling and really face what is important to us, do what is important to us, become what is important to us.
There is a tradition in Judaism to write not only a material will, but an ethical will too – to offer to those who come after us the hard won knowledge an wisdom we want to accompany them on their journeys. It is a good exercise to revisit such a will each Elul, to sing our life’s songs, to try to ensure their continuation. We continue to live as long as we are remembered.
The days leading up to Yom haDin are fewer and fewer. It is time to get serious. What is the song you need to sing? What would you put in your ethical will?