⁷ Nineveh’s exile has been decreed,
    and all the servant girls mourn its capture.
They moan like doves
    and beat their breasts in sorrow.

¹¹ We growl like hungry bears;
    we moan like mournful doves.
We look for justice, but it never comes.
    We look for rescue, but it is far away from us.

¹⁴ Delirious, I chattered like a swallow or a crane,
    and then I moaned like a mourning dove.
My eyes grew tired of looking to heaven for help.
    I am in trouble, Lord. Help me!”

¹² Beat your breasts in sorrow for your bountiful farms
    and your fruitful grapevines.