The leaders of the daughter of Tziyon sit on the ground in silence. They throw dust on their heads; they are wearing sackcloth. The unmarried women of Yerushalayim lower their heads to the ground.
My eyes are worn out from weeping, everything in me is churning; I am empty of emotion because of the wounds to my people, because children and infants are fainting away in the streets of the city.
They keep asking their mothers, "Where is something to eat or drink?"as they faint away in the streets of the city, gasping out their last breath in their mother's bosom.