and say to the king, `Let the king to the age live! wherefore should not my face be sad, when the city, the place of the graves of my fathers, is a waste, and its gates have been consumed with fire?'
And thou hast said unto them this word: Tears come down mine eyes night and day, And they do not cease, For, with a great breach, Broken hath been the virgin daughter of my people, A very grievous stroke.
And I hastened not from feeding after Thee, And the desperate day I have not desired, Thou--Thou hast known, The produce of my lips, before Thy face it hath been,
My bowels, my bowels! I am pained at the walls of my heart, Make a noise for me doth My heart, I am not silent, For the voice of a trumpet I have heard, O my soul--a shout of battle!
She is empty, yea, emptiness and waste, And the heart hath melted, And the knees have smitten together, And great pain is in all loins, And the faces of all of them have gathered paleness.