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30     Despite my earnest cries, my skin burns until it is black and flakes off,
        and my bones burn with fever.
31     And so my harp is tuned to the key of mourning,
        and my flute is pitched to the sound of weeping.

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30 My skin grows black(A) and peels;(B)
    my body burns with fever.(C)
31 My lyre is tuned to mourning,(D)
    and my pipe(E) to the sound of wailing.

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