¹⁶ The wreath that crowned our head has slipped and fallen; now it’s crushed.
    O how we’ve sinned! Pity us for the punishment we brought on ourselves.
¹⁷ We’re sick at heart about it all,
    blind with the sorrow and grief we caused.
¹⁸ God’s heaven on earth, our Mount Zion, is desolate
    except for the jackals who haunt only ruins.