H ija de mi pueblo, cíñete de saco, y revuélcate en ceniza; hazte luto como por hijo único, llanto de amarguras: porque presto vendrá sobre nosotros el destruidor.
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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