15 my strength is wdried up like a potsherd,
and my xtongue sticks to my jaws;
you lay me in the dust of death.
6 Let my utongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
above my highest joy!
4 The tongue of the nursing infant usticks
to the roof of its mouth for thirst;
vthe children beg for food,
but no one gives to them.