We have given the hand to the Egyptians, To the Assyrians, to be satisfied with bread.

Our fathers sinned, and are no more; We have borne their iniquities.

Servants rule over us: There is none to deliver us out of their hand.

We get our bread at the peril of our lives, Because of the sword of the wilderness.

They ravished the women in Zion, The virgins in the cities of Judah.

Our skin is black like an oven, Because of the burning heat of famine.

Turn us to yourself, Yahweh, and we shall be turned. Renew our days as of old.

The joy of our heart is ceased; Our dance is turned into mourning.

The young men bare the mill; The children stumbled under the wood.

Princes were hanged up by their hand: The faces of elders were not honored.

Remember, Yahweh, what has come on us: Look, and see our reproach.

For the mountain of Zion, which is desolate: The foxes walk on it.

But you have utterly rejected us; You are very angry against us.

The elders have ceased from the gate, The young men from their music.

You, Yahweh, remain forever; Your throne is from generation to generation.

For this our heart is faint; For these things our eyes are dim;

The crown is fallen from our head: Woe to us! for we have sinned.

Our inheritance is turned to strangers, Our houses to aliens.

Why do you forget us forever, [And] forsake us so long time?

We are orphans and fatherless; Our mothers are as widows.

Our pursuers are on our necks: We are weary, and have no rest.

We have drunken our water for money; Our wood is sold to us.