The wild donkeys stand on the bare heights, gasping for breath like jackals; Their eyes grow dim; there is no grass.
The castle will be forsaken, the noisy city deserted; Citadel and tower will become wasteland forever, the joy of wild donkeys, the pasture of flocks;
a wild donkey bred in the wilderness, Sniffing the wind in her desire— who can restrain her lust? None seeking her need tire themselves; in her time they will find her.
Even now our eyes are worn out, searching in vain for help; From our watchtower we have watched for a nation unable to save.
Because of this our hearts grow sick, at this our eyes grow dim:
How the animals groan! The herds of cattle are bewildered! Because they have no pasture, even the flocks of sheep are starving.
Jonathan replied: “My father brings trouble to the land. Look how bright my eyes are because I had this little taste of honey.