Shout against her round about, She hath given forth her hand, Fallen have her foundations, Thrown down have been her walls, For it is the vengeance of Jehovah, Be avenged of her, as she did -- do ye to her.

Feeble hath been Damascus, She turned to flee, and fear strengthened her, Distress and pangs have seized her, as a travailing woman.

Its voice as a serpent goeth on, For with a force they go, And with axes they have come in to her, As hewers of trees.

And wild asses have stood on high places, They have swallowed up wind like dragons, Consumed have been their eyes, for there is no herb.

For a voice as of a sick woman I have heard, Distress, as of one bringing forth a first-born, The voice of the daughter of Zion, She bewaileth herself, she spreadeth out her hands, 'Woe to me now, for weary is my soul of slayers!'

A wild ass accustomed to a wilderness, In the desire of her soul she hath swallowed up wind, Her meeting -- who doth turn her back? None seeking her do weary themselves, In her month they find her.

As the digging of a well, is for its waters, So she hath digged for her wickedness, Violence and spoil is heard in her, Before My face continually are sickness and smiting.

Mine inheritance hath been to Me as a lion in a forest, She gave forth against Me with her voice, Therefore I have hated her.

As the keepers of a field They have been against her round about, For with Me she hath been rebellious, An affirmation of Jehovah.'

For, lo, I am stirring up, And am causing to come up against Babylon, An assembly of great nations from a land of the north, And they have set in array against her, From thence she is captured, Its arrow -- as a skilful hero -- returneth not empty,