Study Desk

Thy mother was like a vine of thy vineyard, By waters, was planted, - Fruitful and full of branches, she became By reason of waters abundant;

And they served her as staves of power For the sceptres of rulers, And high became the stature thereof With its interwoven foliage,- And it was seen by its height, By its multitude of branches.

Then was she uprooted in indignation To the ground, was she east, And an east wind, dried up her fruit, - Broken off and withered were her staves of power, A fire, devoured them.

Now, therefore, is she planted in a desert, -In a land parched and dry;

And there hath gone forth a fire out of her staves of rods. Her fruit, hath it devoured, And there is in her no staff of power. As a sceptre to bear rule. A dirge, it is, and hath been made a dirge.