She weeps bitterly in the night, her tears [are] on her cheeks; she has no comforter among all her lovers. All her friends have been unfaithful to her; they have become her enemies.

The roads of Zion [are] mourning because no one comes to the festival. All her gates [are] desolate, her priests groan; her young women [are] worried, and she herself suffers bitterly.

Her foes have become [her] {master}, her enemies are at ease; Yahweh has made her suffer because of the greatness of her transgressions. Her children have gone away, captive before the foe.

All her people groan, they are searching for bread. They give their treasures for food, to bring back life. See, O Yahweh, and look, [how] I am despised.

For these [things], I am weeping, {my eyes flow with tears}; because a comforter is far from me, one to restore my life. My sons are desolate because [the] enemy has prevailed.

They hear that I was groaning; [there is] no comforter for me. All my enemies have heard my misery, they are pleased that you have done it. Bring [that] day that you have proclaimed, And let them be like me.

Her gates have sunk into the earth; he has ruined and broken her bars, her kings and its princes [are] among the nations; there is no more law. Also, her prophets have not found a revelation from Yahweh.

They sit on the ground, the elders of the daughter of Zion are silent. They cast dust on their head, they have put on sackcloth; the young women of Jerusalem have bowed their head down to the ground.

[They] are new in the morning, great is your faithfulness.

The lips and meditation of my assailants [are] against me all day long.

How [the] gold has grown dim, the pure gold has changed. The stones of holiness are scattered at the head of every street.

The precious sons of Zion weighed against fine gold, how they are thought of as earthen vessels of clay, the work of the potter's hands.

The ones who eat delicacies, they are ruined in the streets; the ones nurtured in purple lie [on] piles of trash.

[Now] their appearance is blacker than soot, they are not recognized in the streets; their skin has shriveled on their bones, it has become dry like wood.

They hunted our steps, from walking in our streets; our end has come near, {our days are finished}, our end has come.

We have become orphans, fatherless, our mothers are like widows.

We are driven on our necks; we are weary, there is no rest for us.

Our fathers have sinned, they are no more; we bear their iniquity.

Elders are no longer at the gate, young men no longer play stringed instruments.

Unless you have utterly rejected us, unless you are angry with us beyond measure.