They shall smite upon the breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine.
Like a swallow (or) a crane, so did I chatter; I did moan as a dove; mine eyes fail (with looking) upward: O Lord, I am oppressed, be thou my surety.
We roar all like bears, and moan sore like doves: we look for justice, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far off from us.