1 Early the following spring, in the month of Nisan, during the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes’ reign, I was serving the king his wine. I had never before appeared sad in his presence.
2 So the king asked me, “Why are you looking so sad? You don’t look sick to me. You must be deeply troubled.”Then I was terrified,
3 but I replied, “Long live the king! How can I not be sad? For the city where my ancestors are buried is in ruins, and the gates have been destroyed by fire.”
4 The king asked, “Well, how can I help you?”With a prayer to the God of heaven,