Blinded with tears are mine eyes, In ferment is my body, Poured out to the earth is my grief, for the sore hurt of the daughter of my people, - when child and suckling are swooning, in the broadways of the city.

{Mem} What shall I say of thee, O thou daughter Jerusalem? To whom shall I liken thee? To whom shall I compare thee, O thou daughter Zion, to comfort thee withal? Thy hurt is like a main sea: who may heal thee?

For he does not deliberately hurt or grieve human beings.

Whole rivers of water gush out of mine eyes, for the great hurt of my people.