ד DaletThe roads to Zion mourn,
for no one comes to the appointed festivals.
All her gates are deserted;
her priests groan,
her young women grieve,
and she herself is bitter.

ב BetZion’s precious people—
once worth their weight in pure gold—
how they are regarded as clay jars,
the work of a potter’s hands!

ט TetThose slain by the sword are better off
than those slain by hunger,
who waste away, pierced with pain
because the fields lack produce.