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Pass over to Tarshish;
    wail, O inhabitants of the coastland.
Is this your joyous city,
    whose origin is from ancient days,
whose feet used to carry her
    to sojourn in distant locations?
Who has planned this against Tyre,
    the crowning city,
whose merchants are princes,
    whose traffickers are the honorable of the earth?

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Cross over to Tarshish;(A)
    wail, you people of the island.
Is this your city of revelry,(B)
    the old, old city,
whose feet have taken her
    to settle in far-off lands?
Who planned this against Tyre,
    the bestower of crowns,
whose merchants(C) are princes,
    whose traders(D) are renowned in the earth?

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