||Eulogy for the Late Prime Minister and Defense Minister Yitzhak Rabin by Director of PM's Bureau Eitan Haber
Mt. Herzl, Jerusalem
6 November 1995
Yitzhak, this is the final speech. There will be no others. For a generation, for more than 35 years, you have been my guide, my leader, and like a second father to me. Five minutes before the man who shot drew his gun, you sang "The Song of Peace" from a lyric sheet which was handed to you in order, like you always said, not to mumble the words. Yitzhak, you know you had a thousand good qualities, a thousand advantages, you were great, yet singing was not your strong point. You faked the words just a little bit during the song and afterwards, folded the page into four equal parts, as always, and put it into your jacket pocket.
In the hospital, after the doctors and nurses had cried, they handed me the paper which they found in your jacket pocket. Again, the page was folded into four equal parts, as always. Now, I want to read some of the words from the paper, but it is difficult for me. Your blood, your blood Yitzhak, covers the printed words. Your blood on the page of "The Song of Peace". This is the blood which ran out of your body in the final moments of your life and onto the paper between the lines and the words. From this red page, from the blood which screams out to you, I would now like to read these words, which seem like they were written only yesterday. After you sang there, and after you and peace were shot. This is the page:
"Let the sun rise/ And give the morning light,
The purest prayer/ Will not bring us back
He whose candle was snuffed out/ And was buried in the dust
A bitter cry won't wake him/ Won't bring him back
Nobody will return us/ From the dead dark pit
Here -- neither the victory cheer/ Nor songs of praise will help
So -- sing only a song for peace/ Do not whisper a prayer
Better sing a song for peace/ With a big shout."
Yitzhak, we already miss you.