1 The burden of the Valley of Vision. What -- to thee, now, that thou hast gone up, All of thee -- to the roofs?
2 Full of stirs -- a noisy city -- an exulting city, Thy pierced are not pierced of the sword, Nor dead in battle.
3 All thy rulers fled together from the bow, Bound have been all found of thee, They have been kept bound together, Afar off they have fled.
4 Therefore I said, 'Look ye from me, I am bitter in my weeping, Haste not to comfort me, For the destruction of the daughter of my people.'
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