2. He has gone up to the shrine, to Dibon, to the high places to weep. Moab wails over Nebo and Medeba. Every head is bald, every beard shaven.
3. In their streets they wear sackcloth. On their housetops and in their plazas, everyone wails, weeping profusely.
4. Heshbon and Elealeh cry out. Their voice is heard as far as Jahaz. Therefore the soldiers of Moab cry aloud, his soul faints within him.
5. My heart cries out for Moab. Her fugitives are as far as Zoar as a three year old heifer, for by the ascent of Luhith they go up with weeping, for on the way of Horonaim they raise a cry of distress.
6. The waters of Nimrim are desolate. The grass is withered away, the new grass withers, there is nothing green.