Everyone who passes by on the road shake their fists at you. They hiss and shake their heads at cherished Jerusalem: "Is this the city men used to call "The Perfection of Beauty,' and "The Joy of the Entire Earth'"?

Remember my affliction and homelessness wormwood and gall!

Though the precious people of Zion were like fine gold, how they are valued like clay vessels, the handiwork of a potter!

Now their faces are blacker than coal; they are unrecognized in the streets. Their skin clings to their bones; it has become dry like a stick.