My eye pours down, and doesn't cease, without any intermission,

Mine eye trickleth down, and ceaseth not, without any intermission,

They tell their mothers, Where is grain and wine? When they swoon as the wounded in the streets of the city, When their soul is poured out into their mothers' bosom.

They say to their mothers, Where is corn and wine? when they swooned as the wounded in the streets of the city, when their soul was poured out into their mothers' bosom.

For these things I weep my eye, my eye runs down with water Because the comforter who should refresh my soul is far from me My children are desolate, because the enemy has prevailed.

For these things I weep mine eye, mine eye runneth down with water, because the comforter that should relieve my soul is far from me my children are desolate, because the enemy prevailed.