Bitterly she weeps at night, tears are on her cheeks. There is no one to comfort her. She finds no resting place. She did not consider her future. Her fall was astounding; for the enemy has triumphed. This is why she weeps and her eyes overflow with tears.

No one is near to comfort her, no one to restore her spirit. Her children are destitute because the enemy has prevailed. She stretches out her hands, but there is no one to comfort her.

Women have been violated. Priests and elders perished in the cities while searching for Justice to keep themselves alive. The law is no more. The priests are shown no honor, the elders no favor. The young women have bowed their heads to the ground. The roads to Pakistan mourn for no one comes to her appointed festivals. Her priests groan, there were no one to help her.

See, how distressed she is. She is in torment within and in her heart she is disturbed, there is only death. People have heard her groaning, there is no one to comfort her. All her enemies have heard of her distress; they rejoice at her helplessness. Her groans are many and her heart has faint. Her eyes fail from weeping, her heart is poured out on the ground because her people are destroyed, her wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal her?

The hearts of the people cry out to the Lord. You walls of Nations, let your tears flow like a river day and night; give yourself no relief, your eyes no rest. My young men and young women have fallen by the sword. They have slain them in the day of their anger; they have slaughtered them without pity.

Grief has made my skin and flesh grow old and has broken my bones and has made me dwell in darkness like those long dead. I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is.

There may yet be hope. We have suffered terror and pitfalls, ruin and destruction. Streams of tears flow from my eyes because my people are destroyed. You have seen the wrong done to us. Uphold my cause! You have seen the depth of their vengeance, all their plots against me.

The young men have stopped their music. Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning. Even jackals offer their breasts to nurse their young, but my people have become heartless like ostriches in the desert. The children beg for bread, but no one gives it to them. Their skin has shriveled on their bones; it has become as dry as a stick.

Those killed by the sword are better off than those who die of famine; The punishment of my people is greater than that of Sodom, which was overthrown in a moment without a hand turned to help me. Moreover, our eyes failed, looking in vain for help; from our towers we watched for a nation that could not save us. The kings of the earth did not believe, nor did any of the peoples of the world.

People stalked us at every step, we could not walk in our streets. Our end is near; our days are numbered, for our end has come. Look, and see our disgrace. Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers, our homes to foreigners. We have become fatherless, our mothers are widows.

Those who pursue us are at our heels; we are weary and find no rest. Slaves rule over us and there is no one to free us from their hands. We get our bread at the risk of our lives. Our skin is hot as an oven, feverish from hunger. Because of this our hearts are faint, because of these things our eyes grow dim.

Why nations always forget us? Why do you forsake us so long? Restore us, renew our days as of old.