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Reproach for devotion and isolation
I have become a stranger to my brothers, An alien to my mother’s children.
For the zeal of your house consumes me. The reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me.
When I wept and I fasted, That was to my reproach.
When I made sackcloth my clothing, I became a byword to them.
Those who sit in the gate talk about me. I am the song of the drunkards.