Cut thou off thy crown of hair O Jerusalem , and cast it away, And lift thou up on the bare heights, a dirge,—For Yahweh hath rejected and cast out the generation with which he was wroth.
So will I turn your festivals into mourning, and all your songs into a dirge, and I will bring up—on all loins—sackcloth, and upon every head—baldness,—and I will make it like the mourning for an only one, even the afterpart thereof, as a day of bitterness.
So shall great and small die in this land, They shall not be buried,—Neither shall men lament for them Nor cut themselves, Nor make themselves bald for them;
O daughter of my people Gird thee with sackcloth and roll thyself in ashes,—The mourning for an only son, make thou for thyself, Most bitter lamentation! For suddenly, shall the destroyer come upon us.
He hath gone up to Bayith and Dibon, to the high places, to weep,—On Nebo and on Medeba, Moab is howling, On all their heads, a baldness, Every beard, clipped.
In the ninth year of Hoshea, did the king of Assyria capture Samaria, and carried Israel away captive to Assyria,—and settled them in Halah, and in Habor by the river of Gozan, and the mountains of Media.
Therefore—Thus, saith Yahweh, Thy wife, in the city, will commit unchastity, and, thy sons and thy daughters, by the sword, shall fall, and, thine own soil, by line, shall he apportioned,—and, thou, on a polluted soil, shalt die, and, Israel, shall, surely go into exile, away front his own soil.
Arise, cry out in the night, At the beginning of the watches, pour out, like waters, thy heart, right before the face of My Lord,—Lift up, above thee, the palms of thy hands, for the life of thy children, who are swooning for hunger, at the top of all the streets!