They are drenched by mountain rains and hug the rocks for lack of shelter.
Lacking clothes, they spend the night naked; they have nothing to cover themselves in the cold.
The fatherless child is snatched from the breast; the infant of the poor is seized for a debt.
I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking: “Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
Those who once ate delicacies are destitute in the streets. Those brought up in royal purple now lie on ash heaps.
the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground.