Hunger has made us burn with fever until our skin is as hot as an oven.
My skin has turned dark; I am burning with fever.
I am as useless as a discarded wineskin; yet I have not forgotten your commands.
He has left my flesh open and raw, and has broken my bones.
Now they lie unknown in the streets, their faces blackened in death; their skin, dry as wood, has shriveled on their bones.