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19 He complained to his father, “Oh, my head, my head!” The father said to his servant, “Carry him to his mother.”

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Sorrow for a Doomed Nation

19 My anguish, my anguish! I writhe in pain!
    Oh, the walls of my heart!
My heart is beating wildly;
    I cannot keep silent,
for I[a] hear the sound of the trumpet,
    the alarm of war.(A)

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Footnotes

  1. 4.19 Or for you, O my soul,

14 “A mortal, born of woman, few of days and full of trouble,(A)
    comes up like a flower and withers,
    flees like a shadow and does not last.(B)

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