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My heart cries out for Moab;
    his fugitives flee to Zoar,
    to Eglath-shelishiyah.
For at the ascent of Luhith
    they go up weeping;
on the road to Horonaim
    they raise a cry of destruction;
the waters of Nimrim
    are a desolation;
the grass is withered, the new growth fails,
    the verdure is no more.
Therefore the abundance they have gained
    and what they have laid up
they carry away
    over the Wadi of the Willows.

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