13
Weep for my people's gardens and farms that grow nothing but thistles and thornbushes. Cry tears, real tears, for the happy homes no longer happy, the merry city no longer merry.
13
and thorn bushes and briers are growing on my people's land. Weep for all the houses where people were happy and for the city that was full of life.
13
and thorn bushes and briers are growing on my people's land. Weep for all the houses where people were happy and for the city that was full of life.
13
Cry for the land of my people, in which only thorns and weeds now grow. Cry for the city that once was happy and for all the houses that once were filled with joy.
13
My people's land is overgrown with thorns and bushes. Sob over all of the houses that were once filled with joy. Cry over this city that used to be full of wild parties.
13
Thorns and briars shall ascend on the earth of my people; how much more on all the houses of joy of the city making full out joy? (Thorns and briars shall grow on the land of my people, and how much more in all the houses of joy, in the city making full out joy?)