With what can I compare you? What can I say to you, beloved Jerusalem? To what can I liken you, in order to comfort you, fair Zion? For your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you?
You’re like children playing games on the playground, complaining to friends, ‘You don’t like it when we want to play Wedding. And you don’t like it when we want to play Funeral. Why will you neither dance nor mourn?’