They are wet with the rain of the mountains and cling to the rock for want of shelter.
They lie all night naked, without clothing, and have no covering in the cold.
“There are those who snatch the orphan child from the breast and take as a pledge the infant of the poor.
I was sleeping, but my heart was awake. The sound of my beloved knocking! “Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one, for my head is wet with dew, my locks with the drops of the night.”
Those who feasted on delicacies perish in the streets; those who were brought up in purple cling to ash heaps.
of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains and in caves and holes in the ground.