³¹ Wail, O gate; cry out, O city;
    melt in fear, O Philistia, all of you!
For smoke comes out of the north,
    and there is no straggler in his ranks.

² He has gone up to the temple,^[a] and to Dibon,
    to the high places^[b] to weep;
over Nebo and over Medeba
    Moab wails.
On every head is baldness;
    every beard is shorn;
³ in the streets they wear sackcloth;
    on the housetops and in the squares
    everyone wails and melts in tears.

⁸ For a cry has gone
    around the land of Moab;
her wailing reaches to Eglaim;
    her wailing reaches to Beer-elim.

⁷ Therefore let Moab wail for Moab,
    let everyone wail.
Mourn, utterly stricken,
    for the raisin cakes of Kir-hareseth.

⁸ Suddenly Babylon has fallen and been broken;
    wail for her!
Take balm for her pain;
    perhaps she may be healed.

“Wail, ‘Alas for the day!’