Lamentations 4:1-5

How dark the gold has become, How the pure gold has changed! The sacred stones are spilled out At the corner of every street.

The precious sons of Zion, Weighed against pure gold, How they are regarded as earthenware jars, The work of a potter’s hands!

Even jackals offer the breast, They nurse their young; But the daughter of my people has proved herself cruel, Like ostriches in the wilderness.

The tongue of the infant clings To the roof of its mouth because of thirst; The children ask for bread, But no one breaks it for them.

Those who used to eat delicacies Are made to tremble in the streets; Those who were raised in crimson clothing Embrace garbage heaps.