¹⁹ Woe to me, because of my wound.
    My wound is incurable.
But I said, “Surely this is my sickness,
    and I must bear it.”
²⁰ My tent is devastated,
    and all my tent cords are torn.
My children have gone out from me,
    and they are not.
There is no one who pitches my tent again,
    or one who puts up my tent curtains.