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11 My eyes are worn out with weeping; my soul is in anguish.
    I am exhausted with grief at the destruction of my people.
    Children and babies are fainting in the streets of the city.

12 Hungry and thirsty, they cry to their mothers;
    They fall in the streets as though they were wounded,
    And slowly die in their mothers' arms.

13 O Jerusalem, beloved Jerusalem, what can I say?
    How can I comfort you? No one has ever suffered like this.
    Your disaster is boundless as the ocean; there is no possible hope.

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