Judah has gone into exile to escape affliction and servitude. She that sat among the nations, has found no rest. All her pursuers overtook her amid narrow passes.

He rejected all the valiant men the LORD, in my midst. He set a time to meet with me to crush my young warriors. The LORD has trampled, as in a winepress, the fair virgin that is Judah.

The leaders of cherished Zion sit silently on the ground; they throw dust on their heads and dress in mourning clothes. The young women of Jerusalem bow their heads in sorrow.

What can be said about you? To what should you be compared, fair Jerusalem? To what may I liken you, so I may comfort you, fair one of Zion? Indeed, your wound is as deep as the sea who can heal you?

He is to sit apart and remain silent, because the LORD has laid it upon him.

Water closed over my head, and I said, "I'm a dead man."

You drew near when I called out to you. You said, "Stop being afraid"

Watch! Whether they sit down or stand up, they mock me with their songs.

The LORD's anointed, the breath of our life, was captured in their pits. About him we had said, "Under his protection we will survive among the nations."