¹⁶ Take your harp, walk about the city,
O forgotten harlot;
Pluck the strings skillfully, sing many songs,
That you may be remembered.

⁸ The ^(A)joy of tambourines ceases;
The rumbling of those exulting stops;
The joy of the harp ceases.
⁹ They do not drink wine with song;
^(B)Strong drink is ^(C)bitter to those who drink it.