" 'Your mother was like a vine in your vineyarda1 planted by the water;2 it was fruitful and full of branches because of abundant water.311
Its branches were strong, fit for a ruler's scepter. It towered high above the thick foliage, conspicuous for its height and for its many branches.412
But it was uprooted5 in fury and thrown to the ground. The east wind6 made it shrivel, it was stripped of its fruit; its strong branches withered and fire consumed them.713
Now it is planted in the desert,8 in a dry and thirsty land.914
Fire spread from one of its mainb branches and consumed10 its fruit. No strong branch is left on it fit for a ruler's scepter.'11 This is a lament12 and is to be used as a lament."