4 

Ah! how the gold is dimmed,

the gold so pure!

the sacred gems are scattered

over every street;

2 

the priceless sons of Sion,

worth their weight in gold,

count no more than crockery,

mere pots of clay!

3 

Even jackals give the breast,

their whelps they suckle;

but cruel are the women of my people

as the ostrich wild;

4 

for the tongue of the nursling cleaves for thirst

to the roof of its mouth,

the children beg for food,

and no one gives it.

5 

Those who fared on dainties

rot upon the street;

those who lay on scarlet rugs

huddle on an ash-heap.

6 

The guilt of my people was greater

than even the sin of Sodom--

Sodom that fell in a flash,

ere any could wring his hands.

7 

Her headmen were brighter than snow,

and whiter than milk,

ruddier than rubies,

their bodies veined like sapphires;

8 

and now they look more darksome than the night--

none knows them as they pass--

their skin drawn tight over the bone,

dry as a stick.

9 

Better to die by the sword

than by starving,

stabbed to death by hunger

suddenly in the field!

10 

The hands of tender women

have sodden their own children--

making that their food,

amid the wreck.

11 

The Eternal has carried out his fury,

venting his hot anger;

he has lit a fire in Sion

that burns her to the base.

12 

None could believe, no king,

no man in all the world,

that foe or enemy could ever enter

inside Jerusalem.

13 

It was all for the sin of her prophets,

for the crime of her priests,

who shed in her

the blood of the just.

14 

Now, stained with blood, they wander

blindly about the streets,

brushing against men

they once avoided.

15 

Men shout to them, “Begone! you are unclean!

begone! avoid us!”

So they stagger and wander abroad,

finding no shelter; 16 the Eternal himself has scattered them,

caring nothing for them,

regardless of the priests,

and heedless of the prophets.

17 

Our eyes are strained and failing,

as we look for aid unavailing;

we are watching for a nation

that has never brought salvation.

18 

Foes dog our steps,

we dare not walk abroad;

our days are numbered and over,

for our end has come.

19 

More swift were our pursuers

than eagles of the air,

hunting us over the hills,

ambushing us on the wolds;

20 

they trapped the king, the Eternal’s choice,

the very breath of our lives,

of whom we said, “Under his reign

we shall hold out, among the nations!”

21 

Rejoice and be glad in your home-land,

O maiden Edom!

But the cup will come round to you,

and leave you drunk and dishevelled.

22 

Sion, your guilt is over and gone--

no more exile for you!

But, Edom, your guilt shall be punished,

your sins laid bare!