“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
They are gaunt from lack and famine.
They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes.
The roots of the broom tree are their food.
They are driven out from among men.
They cry after them as after a thief, so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.