“My heart cries sadly for Moab like a flute playing a funeral song. It cries like a flute for the people from Kir Hareseth. The money they made has all been taken away.
They tore down the cities and threw rocks all over every good field. They stopped up all the springs and cut down all the good trees. Kir Hareseth was the only city with its stones still in place, but the men with slingshots surrounded it and conquered it, too.
My heart cries with sorrow for Moab. Its people run away to Zoar for safety; they run to Eglath Shelishiyah. People are going up the mountain road to Luhith, crying as they go. People are going on the road to Horonaim, crying over their destruction.
Lord, look down from the heavens and see; look at us from your wonderful and holy home in heaven. Where is your strong love and power? Why are you keeping your love and mercy from us?
Like a bird hatching an egg it did not lay, so are the people who get rich by cheating. When their lives are half finished, they will lose their riches. At the end of their lives, it will be clear they were fools.
Oh, how I hurt! How I hurt! I am bent over in pain. Oh, the torture in my heart! My heart is pounding inside me. I cannot keep quiet, because I have heard the sound of the trumpet. I have heard the shouts of war.