O daughter of my people, gird thee with sackcloth, and wallow thyself in ashes: make thee mourning, as for an only son, most bitter lamentation: for the spoiler shall suddenly come upon us.
O daughter of my people, dress in cloth made from hair and roll in ashes. Have sorrow as if you lost your only son. Cry with a bitter cry. For all at once the destroyer will come upon us.
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