צְוָחָה

There is a crying for wine in the streets; all joy is darkened, the mirth of the land is gone.

Judah mourneth, and the gates thereof languish; they are black unto the ground; and the cry of Jerusalem is gone up.

The nations have heard of thy shame, and thy cry hath filled the land: for the mighty man hath stumbled against the mighty, and they are fallen both together.

That our oxen may be strong to labour; that there be no breaking in, nor going out; that there be no complaining in our streets.