Lamentations 4:4-5, 9-10

The tongue of the infant clings To the roof of its mouth for thirst; The young children ask for bread, But no one breaks it for them. Those who ate delicacies Are desolate in the streets; Those who were brought up in scarlet Embrace ash heaps.

Those slain by the sword are better off Than those who die of hunger; For these pine away, Stricken for lack of the fruits of the field. The hands of the compassionate women Have cooked their own children; They became food for them In the destruction of the daughter of my people.