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29 At the shout of rider and archer
    each city takes to flight;
They shrink into the thickets,
    they scale the rocks:
All the cities are abandoned,
    no one lives in them.
30 You now who are doomed, what are you doing
    dressing in purple,
    bedecking yourself with gold,
Enlarging your eyes with kohl?
    You beautify yourself in vain!
Your lovers reject you,
    they seek your life.
31 Yes, I hear the cry, like that of a woman in labor,
    like the anguish of a mother bearing her first child—
The cry of daughter Zion gasping,
    as she stretches out her hands:
“Ah, woe is me! I sink exhausted
    before my killers!”(A)

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