11 Quand les rameaux sèchent, on les brise; Des femmes viennent, pour les brûler. C'était un peuple sans intelligence: Aussi celui qui l'a fait n'a point eu pitié de lui, Celui qui l'a formé ne lui a point fait grâce.
11
When its twigs are dry, they are broken off and women come and make fires with them. For this is a people without understanding; so their Maker has no compassion on them, and their Creator shows them no favor.