For my soul is filled with mockings; and there is no health in my flesh.

Because I kept silence, my bones waxed old, from my crying all the day.

Why should you be smitten anymore, transgressing more and more? The whole head is pained, and the whole heart sad.

From the feet to the head, there is no soundness in them; neither wound, nor bruise, nor festering ulcer [are healed]; it is not possible to apply a plaister, nor oil, nor bandages.

And is there no balm in Gilead, or is there no physician there? Why has not the healing of the daughter of my people taken place?