8
Servants rule over us; There is none to deliver us from their hand.
9
We get our bread at the risk of our lives, Because of the sword in the wilderness.
10
Our skin is hot as an oven, Because of the fever of famine.
11
They ravished the women in Zion, The maidens in the cities of Judah.
12
Princes were hung up by their hands, And elders were not respected.
13
Young men ground at the millstones; Boys staggered under loads of wood.
14
The elders have ceased gathering at the gate, And the young men from their music.
15
The joy of our heart has ceased; Our dance has turned into mourning.
16
The crown has fallen from our head. Woe to us, for we have sinned!
17
Because of this our heart is faint; Because of these things our eyes grow dim;
18
Because of Mount Zion which is desolate, With foxes walking about on it.