The Babylonian Exile

ADONAI himself scattered them; he will no longer look after them; they had no respect for cohanim and showed no kindness to the leaders.

As for us, our eyes are worn out from looking in vain for help; we kept on watching and watching for a nation that couldn't save us.

They keep dogging our steps, so that we can't go out in our streets. Our end is near, our time is up; yes, our end has come.

Those who pursued us were swifter than eagles in the sky. They chased us over the mountains and waylaid us in the desert.

ADONAI's anointed, our life-breath, was caught in their pits; though of him we had said, "Under his protection, we can live among the nations."

Rejoice, be glad, daughter of Edom, who lives in the land of 'Utz. To you too the cup will pass; you will get drunk and strip yourself naked!

Your offenses, daughter of Tziyon, are atoned for; he will keep you in exile no longer. Your offenses, daughter of Edom, he will punish; he will expose your sins.

Remember, ADONAI, what has happened to us; look, and see our disgrace.

The land we possessed has been passed on to strangers, our homes to foreigners.

We have become fatherless orphans, our mothers now are widows.

We have to pay to drink our own water; we have to buy our own wood.

The yoke is on our necks; we are persecuted; we toil to exhaustion but are given no rest.

We made pacts with Egypt and Ashur to get enough food.

Our ancestors sinned and no longer exist; we bear the weight of their guilt.

We are ruled by slaves, and there is no one to save us from their power.

We get our food at the peril of our lives because of the sword in the desert.

Our skins are as black as a furnace because of the searing blasts of famine.

They have raped the women of Tziyon, virgins in the cities of Y'hudah.

Princes are hung up by their hands, leaders receive no respect.

Young men are compelled to grind at the mill, boys stagger under loads of wood.

The old men have deserted the city gate, the young men have given up their music.

Joy has vanished from our hearts, our dancing has turned into mourning.

The crown has fallen from our heads. Woe to us! for we have sinned.

This is why our hearts are sick; this is why our eyes grow dim -

it's because of Mount Tziyon, so wasted that jackals have overrun it.