Add parallel Print Page Options

12 For breasts they are lamenting, For fields of desire, for the fruitful vine.

13 Over the ground of my people thorn -- brier goeth up, Surely over all houses of joy of the exulting city,

14 Surely the palace hath been left, The multitude of the city forsaken, Fort and watch-tower hath been for dens unto the age, A joy of wild asses -- a pasture of herds;

Read full chapter

12 Beat your breasts(A) for the pleasant fields,
    for the fruitful vines(B)
13 and for the land of my people,
    a land overgrown with thorns and briers(C)
yes, mourn(D) for all houses of merriment
    and for this city of revelry.(E)
14 The fortress(F) will be abandoned,
    the noisy city deserted;(G)
citadel and watchtower(H) will become a wasteland forever,
    the delight of donkeys,(I) a pasture for flocks,(J)

Read full chapter