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My heart cries out for Moab;
His fugitives are [fleeing] as far as Zoar and Eglath-shelishiyah.
For they go up the ascent of Luhith weeping;
For on the road to Horonaim they raise a cry of distress over their destruction.(A)

For the waters of Nimrim are desolate.
Indeed the grass is withered, the new growth dies;
There is no green thing.

Therefore the abundance which they have acquired and stored away
They carry off over the Brook of the Willows.

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