It is fixed:She is stripped,she is carriedaway,And her handmaidsare moaninglike the soundof doves,Beatingon their breasts.
Beatyour breastsfor the pleasantfields,for the fruitfulvine,
"Like a swallow,[like] a crane,soI twitter;I moanlike a dove;My eyeslookwistfullyto the heights;O Lord,I am oppressed,be my security.
Allof us growllike bears,And moansadlylike doves;We hopefor justice,but thereis none,For salvation,[but] it is farfrom us.
Even when their survivorsescape,they will be on the mountainslike dovesof the valleys,allof them mourning,eachover his own iniquity.
The gatesof the riversare openedAnd the palaceis dissolved.
Behold,your peopleare womenin your midst!The gatesof your landare openedwideto your enemies;Fireconsumesyour gate bars.
As Peterwas belowin the courtyard,oneof the servant-girlsof the high priestcame,
And followingHim was a largecrowdof the people,and of womenwhowere mourningand lamentingHim.
And allthe crowdswho came togetherfor thisspectacle,when they observedwhat had happened,[began] to return,beatingtheir breasts.
