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My heart cries out for Moab,
    his fugitives reach Zoar,
    Eglath-shelishiyah:
The ascent of Luhith
    they ascend weeping;
On the way to Horonaim
    they utter rending cries;(A)
The waters of Nimrim
    have become a waste,
The grass is withered,
    new growth is gone,
    nothing is green.
So now whatever they have acquired or stored away
    they carry across the Wadi of the Poplars.

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