For a voice as of a sick woman I have heard, Distress, as of one bringing forth a first-born, The voice of the daughter of Zion, She bewaileth herself, she spreadeth out her hands, 'Woe to me now, for weary is my soul of slayers!'

And left hath been the daughter of Zion, As a booth in a vineyard, As a lodge in a place of cucumbers -- as a city besieged.

'Because that daughters of Zion have been haughty, And they walk stretching out the neck, And deceiving [with] the eyes, Walking and mincing they go, And with their feet they make a tinkling,

The Lord also hath scabbed The crown of the head of daughters of Zion, And Jehovah their simplicity exposeth.

How doth the Lord cloud in His anger the daughter of Zion, He hath cast from heaven [to] earth the beauty of Israel, And hath not remembered His footstool in the day of His anger.

What do I testify [to] thee, what do I liken to thee, O daughter of Jerusalem? What do I equal to thee, and I comfort thee, O virgin daughter of Zion? For great as a sea [is] thy breach, Who doth give healing to thee?