Panic and pitfall have befallen us, devastation and destruction.
These two things have befallen you —who will mourn for you?— devastation and destruction, famine and the sword. How will I comfort you?
From on high He sent fire into my bones and it overcame them. He spread out a net for my feet; He turned me back. He made me desolate, faint all the day long.
The roads to Zion mourn for no one comes to her moadim. All her gates are desolate. Her kohanim groan, her maidens grieve— she is in bitter anguish.
For it will come rushing upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.