A nd you, O destroyed one, what will you do? Even when you dress in red, and wear objects of gold, and color your eyes to make them look bigger, you make yourself beautiful for nothing. Your lovers hate you, and want to kill you.
And you, O desolate one, what will you do? Although you dress in scarlet, Although you decorate yourself with ornaments of gold, Although you enlarge your eyes with paint, In vain you make yourself beautiful. Your lovers despise you; They seek your life.
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