The precious sons of Zion,
Weighed against fine gold,
How they are regarded as (A)earthen jars,
The work of a potter’s hands!
Even (B)jackals offer the breast,
They nurse their young;
But the daughter of my people has become (C)cruel
Like (D)ostriches in the wilderness.
The (E)tongue of the infant cleaves
To the roof of its mouth because of (F)thirst;
The little ones (G)ask for bread,
But no one breaks it for them.

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How the precious children of Zion,(A)
    once worth their weight in gold,
are now considered as pots of clay,
    the work of a potter’s hands!

Even jackals offer their breasts
    to nurse their young,
but my people have become heartless
    like ostriches in the desert.(B)

Because of thirst(C) the infant’s tongue
    sticks to the roof of its mouth;(D)
the children beg for bread,
    but no one gives it to them.(E)

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