Our ancestors sinned and no longer exist; we bear the weight of their guilt.
We are ruled by slaves, and there is no one to save us from their power.
We get our food at the peril of our lives because of the sword in the desert.
Our skins are as black as a furnace because of the searing blasts of famine.
They have raped the women of Tziyon, virgins in the cities of Y'hudah.
Princes are hung up by their hands, leaders receive no respect.
Young men are compelled to grind at the mill, boys stagger under loads of wood.
The old men have deserted the city gate, the young men have given up their music.
Joy has vanished from our hearts, our dancing has turned into mourning.
The crown has fallen from our heads. Woe to us! for we have sinned.
This is why our hearts are sick; this is why our eyes grow dim -