Therefore My heart will wail for Moab like pipes, and My heart will wail like pipes for the men of Kir Hareseth, because the riches that they have gotten have perished.
They demolished the cities, and on every good piece of land every man threw a stone and filled it with stones, and they stopped every spring of water and cut down every good tree. Only in Kir Hareseth did the stones in the wall remain, until the slingers surrounded it and struck it.
My heart shall cry out for Moab; his fugitives shall flee to Zoar, like a three-year-old heifer. For by the Ascent of Luhith they shall go up with weeping; for in the way of Horonaim they shall raise up a cry of destruction,
Look down from heaven and see, from Your holy and glorious habitation. Where are Your zeal and Your strength? The stirrings of Your heart and Your mercies toward me are restrained.
As the partridge sits on eggs which it has not laid, so is he who gets riches, but not justly; it will forsake him in the midst of his days, and in the end he will be a fool.
My soul, my soul! I am pained at my very heart. My heart makes a noise in me. I cannot hold my peace, because you have heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.