Cry for the land of my people, in which only thorns and weeds now grow. Cry for the city that once was happy and for all the houses that once were filled with joy.
My eyes have no more tears, and I am sick to my stomach. I feel empty inside, because my people have been destroyed. Children and babies are fainting in the streets of the city.
And in the desert I swore to the Israelites that I would not bring them into the land I had given them. It is a fertile land, the best land in the world.
It has been announced that the people of Nineveh will be captured and carried away. The slave girls moan like doves and beat their breasts, because they are sad.