My bowels, my bowels! I am pained at my very heart; my heart maketh a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
Destruction upon destruction is cried; for the whole land is spoiled: suddenly are my tents spoiled, and
my curtains in a moment.
How long shall I see the standard, and
hear the sound of the trumpet?
For my people is
foolish, they have not known me; they are
sottish children, and they have none understanding: they are
wise to do evil, but to do good they have no knowledge.