For a voice as of a sick woman I have heard, Distress, as of one bringing forth a first-born, The voice of the daughter of Zion, She bewaileth herself, she spreadeth out her hands, 'Woe to me now, for weary is my soul of slayers!'

As a palm they are stiff, and they speak not, They are surely borne, for they step not, Be not afraid of them, for they do no evil, Yea, also to do good is not in them.

Woe to me, my mother, For thou hast borne me a man of strife, And a man of contention to all the land, I have not lent on usury, Nor have they lent on usury to me -- All of them are reviling me.

Thou, Thou hast known, O Jehovah, Remember me, and inspect me, And take vengeance for me of my pursuers, In Thy long-suffering take me not away, Know -- I have borne for Thee reproach.

For thus said Jehovah, Of the sons and of the daughters who are born in this place, And of their mothers -- those bearing them, And of their fathers -- those begetting them in this land:

Cursed is the day in which I was born, The day that my mother bare me, Let it not be blessed!

Cursed is the man who bore tidings to my father, saying, 'Born to thee hath been a child -- a male,' Making him very glad!

And I have cast thee, And thy mother who bore thee, unto another country, Where ye were not born, and there do ye die.

With weeping they come in, And with supplications I bring them, I cause them to go unto streams of waters, In a right way -- they stumble not in it, For I have been to Israel for a father, And Ephraim -- My first-born is he.

For after my turning back I repented, And after my being instructed I struck on the thigh, I have been ashamed, I have also blushed, For I have borne the reproach of my youth.