And I said to the king: "O king, live forever. Why should my expression not be mournful, since the city of the house of the sepulchers of my father is desolate, and its gates have been burned with fire?"
Jeremiah 8:21 - Catholic Public Domain Version Over the destruction of the daughter of my people, I am contrite and saddened; astonishment has taken hold of me. 更多版本King James Version (Oxford) 1769 For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; I am black; astonishment hath taken hold on me. Amplified Bible - Classic Edition For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I [Jeremiah] hurt; I go around mourning; dismay has taken hold on me. American Standard Version (1901) For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt: I mourn; dismay hath taken hold on me. Common English Bible Because my people are crushed, I am crushed; darkness and despair overwhelm me. Douay-Rheims version of The Bible - 1752 version For the affliction of the daughter of my people, I am afflicted: and made sorrowful: astonishment hath taken hold on me. English Standard Version 2016 For the wound of the daughter of my people is my heart wounded; I mourn, and dismay has taken hold on me. |
And I said to the king: "O king, live forever. Why should my expression not be mournful, since the city of the house of the sepulchers of my father is desolate, and its gates have been burned with fire?"
And you shall speak this word to them: Let my eyes shed tears throughout the night and day, and let them not cease. For the virgin daughter of my people has been crushed by a great affliction, by a very grievous wound."
"Judea has mourned. And its gates have fallen and become hard to discern on the ground. And the outcry of Jerusalem has ascended.
But I am not troubled; I am following you as my shepherd. And I have not desired the day of man, as you know. That which has gone forth from my lips has been right in your sight.
I am afflicted in my heart, in my heart. The senses of my heart have been stirred up within me. I will not remain silent. For my soul has heard the voice of the trumpet, the clamor of the battle.
"Who will provide water for my head, and a fount of tears for my eyes? And then I will weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.
Before their face, the people will be tortured; each one's appearance will retreat, as if into a jar.
She has been scattered, and cut, and torn apart. And the heart melts, and the knees buckle, and weakness is in every temperament. And the faces of them all are like a black kettle.