³² O vine of Sibmah, I will weep for thee with more than the weeping of Jaazer: thy shoots passed over the sea, they reached to the sea of Jaazer. The spoiler is fallen upon thy summer fruits and upon thy vintage.

¹⁴ My dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the covert of the precipice, Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; For sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.