2 See how the precious children of Jerusalem,worth their weight in fine gold,are now treated like pots of claymade by a common potter.
3 Even the jackals feed their young,but not my people Israel.They ignore their children’s cries,like ostriches in the desert.
4 The parched tongues of their little onesstick to the roofs of their mouths in thirst.The children cry for bread,but no one has any to give them.
5 The people who once ate the richest foodsnow beg in the streets for anything they can get.Those who once wore the finest clothesnow search the garbage dumps for food.
6 The guilt of my peopleis greater than that of Sodom,where utter disaster struck in a momentand no hand offered help.
7 Our princes once glowed with health—brighter than snow, whiter than milk.Their faces were as ruddy as rubies,their appearance like fine jewels.
8 But now their faces are blacker than soot.No one recognizes them in the streets.Their skin sticks to their bones;it is as dry and hard as wood.