A wild ass accustomed to the wilderness in the desire of his heart snuffed up the wind of his love: none shall turn her away. All that seek her shall not fail: in her monthly filth they shall find her.
Ain. While we were yet standing, our eyes failed, expecting help for us in vain, when we looked attentively towards a nation that was not able to save.
For the house is forsaken, the multitude of the city is left, darkness and obscurity are come upon its dens for ever: a joy of wild asses, the pastures of flocks,