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For the waters of Nimrim are desolate.
Indeed the grass is withered, the new growth dies;
There is no green thing.

Therefore the abundance which they have acquired and stored away
They carry off over the Brook of the Willows.

For the cry of distress has echoed around the territory of Moab;
The wailing goes as far as Eglaim and the mournful cry to Beer-elim.

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