And the flame of a sword, and the lightning of a spear, And the abundance of the wounded, And the weight of carcases, Yea, there is no end to the bodies, They stumble over their bodies.
Because of the abundance of the fornications of an harlot, The goodness of the grace of the lady of witchcrafts, Who is selling nations by her fornications, And families by her witchcrafts.
Lo, I [am] against thee, An affirmation of Jehovah of Hosts, And have removed thy skirts before thy face, And have shewed nations thy nakedness, And kingdoms thy shame,
And it hath come to pass, Each of thy beholders fleeth from thee, And hath said: `Spoiled is Nineveh, Who doth bemoan for her?` Whence do I seek comforters for thee?
Even she doth become an exile, She hath gone into captivity, Even her sucklings are dashed to pieces At the top of all out-places, And for her honoured ones they cast a lot, And all her great ones have been bound in fetters.
There consume thee doth a fire, Cut thee off doth a sword, It doth consume thee as a cankerworm! Make thyself heavy as the cankerworm, Make thyself heavy as the locust.
Thy crowned ones [are] as a locust, And thy princes as great grasshoppers, That encamp in hedges in a day of cold, The sun hath risen, and it doth flee away, And not known is its place where they are.
Slumbered have thy friends, king of Asshur, Rest do thine honourable ones, Scattered have been thy people on the mountains, And there is none gathering.
There is no weakening of thy destruction, Grievous [is] thy smiting, All hearing thy fame have clapped the hand at thee, For over whom did not thy wickedness pass continually?