Flies of death will cause the oil of the perfume to stink, it will ferment: the preciousness of wisdom above the honor of the least folly.

See, O Jehovah; for straits to me: my bowels were in a ferment; my heart turned in my midst; for embittering, I embittered: without, the sword bereaved; in the house, as death.

Mine eyes failed with tears, my bowels were in a ferment, my liver was poured out to the earth, upon the breaking of the daughter of my people; in the fainting of the child and suckling in the wide places of the city.