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My heart cries out for Moab! Her nobles flee to Zoar, to Eglath Shelishiyah; for they go up by the ascent of Luhith with weeping; for on the way to Horonaim, they raise up a cry of destruction. For the waters of Nimrim will be desolate; for the grass has withered away, the tender grass fails, there is no green thing. Therefore they will carry away the abundance they have gotten, and that which they have stored up, over the brook of the willows.

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