They are wet with the showers of the mountains and embrace the rock for want of a shelter.
They cause the naked to lodge without clothing, and they have no covering in the cold.
They snatch the fatherless from the breast and take a pledge from the poor.
I am sleeping, but my heart is awake. A sound! My lover is knocking. Open the door for me, my sister, my beloved, my dove and pure one; for my head is wet with dew, my hair with the drops of the night.
Those who once ate delicacies are desolate in the streets; those who were brought up in scarlet embrace ash heaps.
The world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth.