¹¹ Alt hennes folk sukker og søker efter brød; de gir sine kostelige ting bort for mat, for å opholde livet. Se, Herre, Se hvor foraktet jeg er blitt!

¹⁶ For these things I weep; my eye, my eye runs down with water; Because the comforter who should refresh my soul is far from me: My children are desolate, because the enemy has prevailed.