ਯਿਰਮਿਯਾਹ ਦਾ ਵਿਰਲਾਪ 5
Remember, O Yahweh, what hath befallen us, Look around, and see our reproach:
Our inheritance, turned over to foreigners, our houses, to aliens.
Orphans, have we become, and fatherless, our mothers, are widows indeed.
Our water—for silver, have we drunk, our wood—for a price, cometh in.
Upon our necks, are our pursuers, We labour, and there is allowed us no rest.
To Egypt, have we stretched out our hand, to Assyria, to be satisfied with bread.
Our fathers, sinned, and are not, and, we, their iniquities, have borne.
Slaves, have ruled over us, There is none to set free from their hand.
At the risk of our life, do we bring in our bread, because of the sword of the desert.
Our skin, as with a furnace, is scorched, because of the hot winds of famine.
Women—in Zion, were ravished, virgins, in the cities of Judah!
Princes, by their hand, have been hanged, The faces of elders, not honoured.
Young men, a millstone, have lifted, and, youths, under wood, have staggered.
Elders, from the gates, have ceased. Young men, from their music.
Ceased hath the joy of our hearts, Changed to mourning, our dance.
Fallen is the crown of our head. Surely woe to us, for we have sinned.
For this cause, faint is our heart, For these things, dimmed are our eyes:
Because of Mount Zion, which is desolate, jackals, have gone prowling therein.
Thou, O Yahweh, unto times age-abiding, dost remain, Thy throne, from generation to generation:
Wherefore shouldst thou perpetually forget us? forsake us, to length of days?
Bring us back, O Yahweh, unto thyself, and we will come back! Renew our days, as of old;
For though thou hast not, utterly rejected, us, thou art wroth with us—exceedingly!
