14 The aged from the gate have ceased, Young men from their song.
15 Ceased hath the joy of our heart, Turned to mourning hath been our dancing.
16 Fallen hath the crown 'from' our head, Wo 'is' now to us, for we have sinned.
17 For this hath our heart been sick, For these have our eyes been dim.
18 For the mount of Zion -- that is desolate, Foxes have gone up on it.
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