The men that in the gate do sit against me evil spake; They also that vile drunkards were of me their song did make.
They that sit in the gate speak against me; And I was the song of the drunkards.
They who sit in [the city's] gate talk about me, and I am the song of the drunkards.
They that sit in the gate talk of me; And I am the song of the drunkards.
Those who sit at the city gate muttered things about me; drunkards made up rude songs.
But as for me, when they were sick, in sackcloth sad I mourn'd: My humbled soul did fast, my pray'r into my bosom turn'd.