Your pomp is brought down to Sheol , with the sound of your stringed instruments. Maggots are spread out under you, and worms cover you.

Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee.

My mother, despite the love she has developed for Akka, still maintains a longing for the mountain and the village and the garden carpeted with the dreams of a young peasant woman what have cities got to do with her anyway? dreams that will bear fruit in order to keep her company during our absence, we her sons and daughters, when we grow older and leave the small city looking for another port.