For these things, am, I, weeping, Mine eye, mine eye, is running down with waters, for, far from me, is any who could comfort, could bring back my life, - My sons are amazed, for strong is the foe.

How could My Lord, in his anger, enshroud in gloom, the daughter of Zion? have cast from the heavens to the earth, the beauty of Israel? and not have remembered his footstool, in the day of his anger?

How is dimmed the gold! changed the most fine gold! Poured out are the stones of the sanctuary, at the top of all the streets.

The precious sons of Zion, they who were weighed against pure gold, How are they accounted as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter!

Rejoice and be glad, O daughter of Edom, thou inhabitress in the and of Uz, - Even unto thee, shall the cup pass along, thou shalt be drunken, and expose thy shame.