T his the exulting city that is dwelling confidently, That is saying in her heart, `I, and beside me there is none,' How hath she been for a desolation, A crouching-place for beasts, Every one passing by her doth hiss, He doth shake his hand!
This is the city that is full of joy and takes it easy and thinks it is safe. It says to itself, “I am, and there is no one else.” How it has become a waste, a resting place for animals! All who pass by will make fun of her and laugh at her shaking their hands.
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