My wo [is] to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.
Perished hath the kind out of the land, And upright among men -- there are none, All of them for blood lie in wait, Each his brother they hunt [with] a net.
On the evil [are] both hands to do [it] well, The prince is asking -- also the judge -- for recompence, And the great -- he is speaking the mischief of his soul, And they wrap it up.
Their best one [is] as a brier, The upright one -- than a thorn-hedge, The day of thy watchmen -- Thy visitation -- hath come. Now is their perplexity.
Believe not in a friend, trust not in a leader, From her who is lying in thy bosom keep the openings of thy mouth.
For a son is dishonouring a father, A daughter hath stood against her mother, A daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, The enemies of each [are] the men of his house.
And I -- in Jehovah I do watch, I do wait for the God of my salvation, Hear me doth my God.