Lo, in its being perfect it is not used for work, How much less, when fire hath eaten of it, And it is scorched, Hath it been used yet for work?

How weak is thy heart, An affirmation of the Lord Jehovah, In thy doing all these, The work of a domineering whorish woman.

Cry and howl, son of man, For it hath been among My people, It is among all the princes of Israel, Cast unto the sword have been My people. Therefore strike on thy thigh,

And have lifted up for thee a lamentation, And said to thee: How hast thou perished, That art inhabited from the seas, The praised city, that was strong in the sea, She and her inhabitants, Who put their terror on all her inhabitants!

'Son of man, prophesy, and thou hast said: Thus said the Lord Jehovah: Howl ye, ha! for the day!

And thou, son of man, say unto the house of Israel: Rightly ye have spoken, saying: Surely our transgressions and our sins are on us, And in them we are wasting away, How, then, do we live?