All her people sigh, they seek bread; They have given their pleasant things for food to refresh the soul: See, O Jehovah, and behold; for I am become abject.

From on high hath he sent fire into my bones, and it prevaileth against them; He hath spread a net for my feet, he hath turned me back: He hath made me desolate and faint all the day.

I called for my lovers, but they deceived me: My priests and mine elders gave up the ghost in the city, While they sought them food to refresh their souls.

To crush under foot all the prisoners of the earth,

They that did feed delicately are desolate in the streets: They that were brought up in scarlet embrace dunghills.

The hands of the pitiful women have boiled their own children; They were their food in the destruction of the daughter of my people.