1. And now, laughed at me, Have the younger in days than I, Whose fathers I have loathed to set With the dogs of my flock.
2. Also--the power of their hands, why [is it] to me? On them hath old age perished.
3. With want and with famine gloomy, Those fleeing to a dry place, Formerly a desolation and waste,
4. Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots [is] their food.
5. From the midst they are cast out, (They shout against them as a thief),
6. In a frightful place of valleys to dwell, Holes of earth and clefts.
7. Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.
8. Sons of folly--even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.