So my heart is sounding for Moab like the sound of pipes, and my heart is sounding like pipes for the men of Kir-heres: for the wealth he has got for himself has come to an end.
My heart is crying out for Moab; her people go in flight to Zoar, and to Eglath-shelishiyah: for they go up with weeping by the slope of Luhith; on the way to Horonaim they send up a cry of destruction.
Like the partridge, getting eggs together but not producing young, is a man who gets wealth but not by right; before half his days are ended, it will go from him, and at his end he will be foolish.
My soul, my soul! I am pained to my inmost heart; my heart is troubled in me; I am not able to be quiet, because the sound of the horn, the note of war, has come to my ears.
Let your eyes be looking down from heaven, from your holy and beautiful house: where is your deep feeling, the working of your power? do not keep back the moving of your pity and your mercies:
Pulling down the towns, covering every good field with stones, stopping up all the water-springs, and cutting down all the good trees; they went on driving Moab before them till only in Kir-hareseth were there any Moabites; and the fighting-men went round the town raining stones on it.