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.

Better are the slain of the sword, than the slain of the famine, - for, these, pine away, stricken through, wanting the produce of the field.

For this cause, faint is our heart, For these things, dimmed are our eyes: