The poem begins with an exclamation: how the gold has grown dim, how the pure gold is changed, and the stones of the sanctuary lie scattered at the head of every street. The sons of Zion, worth their weight in fine gold, are now regarded as earthen pots. Even jackals offer the breast to their young, but the daughter of my people has become cruel like the ostriches in the wilderness. The tongue of the nursing child sticks to the roof of its mouth for thirst, and the little ones beg for bread with no one to give it.
Those who feasted on delicacies perish in the streets, and those brought up in purple embrace ash heaps. The punishment of the daughter of my people was greater than that of Sodom, overthrown in a moment. Her princes were purer than snow, and now their appearance is blacker than soot and no one recognizes them. Better off were those slain by the sword than those slain by hunger. Compassionate women boiled their own children, who became their food. The Lord gave full vent to his wrath and kindled in Zion a fire that consumed its foundations.
The kings of the earth did not believe the enemy could enter the gates of Jerusalem. It was for the sins of her prophets and the iniquities of her priests, who shed the blood of the righteous in her midst. They wandered blind through the streets, polluted with blood, and the Lord himself scattered them.
The people watched in vain for help that did not come, and their pursuers were swifter than eagles. The Lord's anointed, the breath of their lives, was captured in their pits. The poem ends with a shift: rejoice, daughter of Edom, you who dwell in Uz; the cup will pass to you as well. Your punishment, daughter of Zion, is complete, and the Lord will keep you in exile no longer; but he will punish your iniquity, daughter of Edom.