הַשָּׁנָהha-sha-NAלֵילleilהַסֵּדֶרha-SE-derהָיָהha-YAשׁוֹנֶהsho-NEלַחֲלוּטִיןla-kha-lu-TINמֵהַשָּׁנִיםme-ha-sha-NIMהַקּוֹדְמוֹת.ha-kod-MOT.בְּדִיּוּקbe-di-YUKכְּשֶׁהִתְיַשַּׁבְנוּkshe-hit-ya-SHAV-nuלַשֻּׁלְחָן,la-shul-KHAN,פִּתְאוֹםpit-OMהֵחֵלָּהhe-KHE-laסוּפָהsu-FAעַזָּהa-ZAבַּחוּץ.ba-KHUTZ.הָרוּחַha-RU-akhיִלְּלָה,yi-le-LA,בְּרָקִיםbra-KIMהִבְזִיקוּhiv-ZI-kuוְהָאוֹרve-ha-ORכָּבָהka-VAלַחֲלוּטִין.la-kha-lu-TIN.סָבְתָאSAV-taשֶׁלִּיshe-LIהִדְלִיקָהhid-LI-kaשְׁנֵיshe-NEIנֵרוֹתne-ROTוְאָמְרָה:ve-am-RA:"נַחְגֹּג"nakh-GOGלְאוֹרle-ORנֵרוֹת,ne-ROT,כְּמוֹke-MOפַּעַם."PA-am."פִּתְאוֹםpit-OMהַסֵּדֶרha-SE-derקִבֵּלki-BELאֲוִירָהa-vi-RAמְיֻחֶדֶת:me-yu-KHE-det:שְׁקֵטָה,shke-TA,אִינְטִימִיתin-TI-mitוְכִמְעַטve-khim-ATקְסוּמָה.ksu-MA.קָרָאנוּka-RA-nuאֶתetהַהַגָּדָהha-ha-ga-DAבְּקוֹלbe-KOLנָמוּךְna-MUKHוְהִקְשַׁבְנוּve-hik-SHAV-nuלַגֶּשֶׁםla-GE-shemשֶׁהִכָּהshe-hi-KAבַּחַלּוֹנוֹת.ba-kha-lo-NOT.אַחֲרֵיa-kha-REIהָאֲרוּחָה,ha-a-ru-KHA,אָחִיa-KHIהַקָּטָןha-ka-TANנִרְדַּםnir-DAMעַלalהַסַּפָּהha-sa-PAעִםimחִיּוּךְkhi-YUKHעַלalפָּנָיו.pa-NAV.אֶתetהַסֵּדֶרha-SE-derהַזֶּהha-ZEאֶזְכֹּרez-KORכָּלKOLחַיַּי.kha-YAI.זֶהZEהָיָהha-YAהַלַּיְלָהha-LAI-laשֶׁבּוֹshe-BOהַסְּעָרָהha-se-a-RAנָתְנָהnat-NAלָנוּLA-nuמַתָּנָהma-ta-NAיִחוּדִית.yi-khu-DIT.
This year the seder night was completely different from previous years. Just as we sat down at the table, a fierce storm suddenly began outside. The wind howled, lightning flashed, and the lights went out completely. My grandmother lit two candles and said: "We'll celebrate by candlelight, like in the old days." Suddenly the seder took on a special atmosphere: quiet and intimate, almost magical. We read the Haggadah in low voices and listened to the rain hitting the windows. After the meal, my little brother fell asleep on the couch with a smile on his face. I will remember this seder all my life. It was the night the storm gave us a unique gift.