My feet are torn, and homelessness has worn me out.
Park seats have left their marks on my ribs.
Policemen followed me with their suspicious looks
I dragged myself from place to place destitute
except for daylong memories of a home
that yesterday, only yesterday was mine
and except for evening dreams of my dwelling there again.
Jerusalem remembers in the days of her affliction and bitterness all the precious things that were hers from days of old. When her people fell into the hand of the foe, and there was none to help her, the foe gloated over her, mocking at her downfall.
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