Surely the palace hath been left, The multitude of the city forsaken, Fort and watch-tower hath been for dens unto the age, A joy of wild asses -- a pasture of herds;
They sowed wheat, and have thorns reaped, They have become sick -- they profit not, And they have been ashamed of your increases, Because of the fierceness of the anger of Jehovah.
And it hath consumed thy harvest and thy bread, They consume thy sons, and thy daughters, It consumeth thy flock, and thy herd, It consumeth thy vine, and thy fig-tree, It maketh poor thy fenced cities, In which thou art trusting -- by the sword.