The Lamentation of a Young Lion

Your mother was like a vine in a vineyard, transplanted by the water. Its strongest stem became a ruler's scepter and tower to loft among the thick boughs. She took another of her welps and made him a young lion; he prowled among the lions. Now it is transplanted in the wilderness, in a dry and thirsty land. And fire has gone out from its stem, has consumed its branches and fruit so that there remains in it no strong stem. No scepter for a ruler. This is a lamentation and has become a lamentation. The light of the righteous rejoices, but the lamp of the wicked will be put out.