View source for Final Letter of Rabbi Tarphon

Found inside a leather scroll-case beside an earthen jug, the [[Jar-Phon]], both resting within an inscribed star of David in the farthest cavern of a [[Tarphon's Cave]] beneath the Propontis.

By translating the date from the Jewish calendar, it appears to have been written around 135 Anno Domini.

[Written in Hebrew]

    The year 3896, I, Rabbi Tarphon, dictate:
    
    The time is short, the labor vast, the workers lazy, the reward great,
    the master pressing, and we, the only remaining members of the force
    sent by the messiah Simon Bar Kokhba to steal the forelocks of the nafka
    Asherah, find ourselves, after innumerable perils, now, on our return
    journey to Jerusalem, trapped in this cave, surrounded by Romans.  That
    our mission is fercockt was perhaps my own fault, for I attracted too
    much attention when I got into that fight with the Nazarene nebbish
    Justin in Ephesus.  And perhaps I was a little   excessive when I burned
    quite so many gospels in Philippi.  I fear Rabbi Akiba, who bested me in
    so many dialectics, was finally wrong when he assured me I would have
    success in my mission.  Pray G-d he is not also wrong about Simon Bar
    Kokhba!
    
    But Akiba could not be wrong.  I remember once, when I gave him some
    money (for who in Jerusalem was richer than he, save I?) to purchase for
    me some durable goods.  He gave all the money to the poor and said,
    "Behold, the everlasting good you have acquired!"  He was always far
    beyond me in wisdom, and perhaps should have been entrusted with this
    mission, instead of me.  But of course he is over 110 years old, and
    could scarcely come along.  So many have perished, and we are all
    fershlugina.
    
    For a long time, perhaps, we could hide here, safely behind these
    dangers, but that would scarcely save Jerusalem.
    
    The holy scrolls I will hide here, lest they fall into the hands of the
    pagans, or, even worse, the meeskait Nazarenes.  These might have saved
    us, but the Nafka took my eyes.  Let those who would read them play
    Simon Bar Kokhba's game.  The forelocks I will bring with me as we
    attempt to break through, for if, by chance, we escape the blockade, we
    will need it to bind the gates of Jerusalem against the siege that is
    certainly coming.  I wonder if that little pisher Justin is up there
    among the Romans.  I will smite him hip and thigh ere I am kaput.  O
    Lord G-d, remember me, I pray thee, and strengthen me, I pray thee, only
    this once, O G-d!  Let me be avenged for my two eyes!  I will give him
    such a zetz in his kishka.
    
    But a bi gezunt, I guess.  We are not obliged to complete the work, but
    neither may we shirk it.  Hear, O Israel, the Lord our G-d, the Lord is
    One.