G eedahaygii canabka ahaa way baabbi'iyeen, oo dhirtaydii berdaha ahaydna way diirteen, wayna mudhxiyeen oo kala tuurtuureen, oo laamahoodiina waa qayax cad.
It hath made my vine become a desolation, And my fig-tree become a chip, It hath made it thoroughly bare, and hath cast down, Made white have been its branches.
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