And they broke down the cities, and each man threw a stone on every good piece of land and filled it. And they stopped up all the fountains of water and cut down all the good trees, until only the stones of Qir Ḥaraseth was left. And the slingers went round and struck it.
My own heart is toward Mo’aḇ; her fugitives cry unto Tso‛ar, like a three-year-old heifer. For by the ascent of Luḥith they go up with weeping; for in the way of Ḥoronayim they raise a cry of destruction.