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Pass over to Tarshish. Cry out in sorrow, O people of the islands. Is this your joy-filled city, whose beginning was long ago, whose feet have taken her to live in places far away?

Who has planned this against Tyre, the giver of crowns, whose traders were princes and the honored 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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