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My wo [is] to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.

Perished hath the kind out of the land, And upright among men -- there are none, All of them for blood lie in wait, Each his brother they hunt [with] a net.

On the evil [are] both hands to do [it] well, The prince is asking -- also the judge -- for recompence, And the great -- he is speaking the mischief of his soul, And they wrap it up.

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Israel’s Misery

What misery is mine!
I am like one who gathers summer fruit
    at the gleaning of the vineyard;
there is no cluster of grapes to eat,
    none of the early figs(A) that I crave.
The faithful have been swept from the land;(B)
    not one(C) upright person remains.
Everyone lies in wait(D) to shed blood;(E)
    they hunt each other(F) with nets.(G)
Both hands are skilled in doing evil;(H)
    the ruler demands gifts,
the judge accepts bribes,(I)
    the powerful dictate what they desire—
    they all conspire together.

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