1
Oh, oh, oh . . . How gold is treated like dirt, the finest gold thrown out with the garbage, Priceless jewels scattered all over, jewels loose in the gutters.
2
And the people of Zion, once prized, far surpassing their weight in gold, Are now treated like cheap pottery, like everyday pots and bowls mass-produced by a potter.
3
Even wild jackals nurture their babies, give them their breasts to suckle. But my people have turned cruel to their babies, like an ostrich in the wilderness.
4
Babies have nothing to drink. Their tongues stick to the roofs of their mouths. Little children ask for bread but no one gives them so much as a crust.
5
People used to the finest cuisine forage for food in the streets. People used to the latest in fashions pick through the trash for something to wear.
6
The evil guilt of my dear people was worse than the sin of Sodom - The city was destroyed in a flash, and no one around to help.
7
The splendid and sacred nobles once glowed with health. Their bodies were robust and ruddy, their beards like carved stone.
8
But now they are smeared with soot, unrecognizable in the street, Their bones sticking out, their skin dried out like old leather.
9
Better to have been killed in battle than killed by starvation. Better to have died of battle wounds than to slowly starve to death.
10
Nice and kindly women boiled their own children for supper. This was the only food in town when my dear people were broken.