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Chapter 9

A Faithless People

Oh, if only my head were a spring of water
    and my eyes a fountain of tears
so that I might weep day and night
    for the slain of the daughter of my people.
Would that I could find in the desert
    a wayside shelter for travelers
so that I might depart from my people
    and leave them far behind.
For all of them are adulterers,
    a faithless mob of traitors.

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