They tore down the cities and each man threw a stone into every cultivated field until they were covered. They stopped up every spring and chopped down every productive tree. Only Kir Hareseth was left intact, but the slingers surrounded it and attacked it.

So Moab wails over its demise -- they all wail! Completely devastated, they moan about what has happened to the raisin cakes of Kir Hareseth.

So my heart constantly sighs for Moab, like the strumming of a harp, my inner being sighs for Kir Hareseth.