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The waters of Nimrim
    have become a waste,
The grass is withered,
    new growth is gone,
    nothing is green.
So now whatever they have acquired or stored away
    they carry across the Wadi of the Poplars.
The cry has gone round
    the territory of Moab;
As far as Eglaim his wailing,
    even at Beer-elim his wailing.

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