He remembers his nobles;
They stumble in their march,
They hurry to her wall,
And the mantelet is set up.

It is fixed:
She is stripped, she is carried away,
And her handmaids are moaning like the sound of doves,
Beating on their breasts.

Though Nineveh was like a pool of water throughout her days,
Now they are fleeing;
“Stop, stop,”
But no one turns back.

“Behold, I am against you,” declares the Lord of hosts. “I will burn up her chariots in smoke, a sword will devour your young lions; I will cut off your prey from the land, and no longer will the voice of your messengers be heard.”

Woe to the bloody city, completely full of lies and pillage;
Her prey never departs.

All because of the many harlotries of the harlot,
The charming one, the mistress of sorceries,
Who sells nations by her harlotries
And families by her sorceries.

“And it will come about that all who see you
Will shrink from you and say,
‘Nineveh is devastated!
Who will grieve for her?’
Where will I seek comforters for you?”

Are you better than No-amon,
Which was situated by the waters of the Nile,
With water surrounding her,
Whose rampart was the sea,
Whose wall consisted of the sea?

Ethiopia was her might,
And Egypt too, without limits.
Put and Lubim were among her helpers.

Yet she became an exile,
She went into captivity;
Also her small children were dashed to pieces
At the head of every street;
They cast lots for her honorable men,
And all her great men were bound with fetters.