²⁹ From the sound of a horseman and an archer^[a] every town flees,
    they enter in the thickets and among the rocks they climb.
Every town is forsaken,
    and there is no person who lives in them.
³⁰ And you, O devastated one, what do you do,
    that you put on crimson,
that you adorn yourself with ornaments of gold,
    that you make your eyes look bigger with the eye make-up?
In vain you beautify yourself.
    Your lovers reject you;
    they seek your life.
³¹ For I heard a voice like an ill woman,
    anxiety like a woman who bears her first child,
the voice of the daughter of Zion.
    She is gasping for breath,
    she is spreading out her hands:
“Woe is me, for I am becoming tired^[b] before killers.”