Woe to me, mother, that you gave me birth!/ a man of strife and contention to all the land!/ I neither borrow nor lend,/ yet all curse me./ When I found your words, I devoured them;/ they became my joy and the happiness of my heart,/ Because I bore your name,/ O Lord, God of hosts./ I did not sit celebrating/ in the ­circle of merrymakers;/ Under the weight of your hand I sat alone/ because you filled me with indignation./ Why is my pain continuous,/ my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?/ You have indeed become for me a treacherous brook,/ whose waters do not abide!/ Thus the Lord answered me:/ If you repent, so that I restore you,/ in my presence you shall stand;/ If you bring forth the precious without the vile,/ you shall be my mouthpiece./ Then it shall be they who turn to you,/ and you shall not turn to them;/ And I will make you toward this people/ a solid wall of brass./ Though they fight against you,/ they shall not prevail,/ For I am with you,/ to deliver and rescue you, says the Lord./ I will free you from the hand of the wicked,/ and rescue you from the grasp of the violent.

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God.

Let my eyes stream with tears/ day and night, without rest,/ Over the great destruction which overwhelms/ the ­virgin daughter of my people,/ over her incurable wound./ If I walk out into the field,/ look!