And you, O desolate one, what will you do?
Though you clothe yourself in scarlet,
Though you adorn yourself with ornaments of gold,
Though you enlarge your eyes with paint,
You make yourself beautiful in vain.
Your lovers (allies) despise you;
They seek your life.

And let them make haste, and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids gush out with waters.