One firm stroke to the right. Turn to the left,- Whithersoever thine edge is directed,

Son of Man Behold! taking away from thee the delight of thine eyes, with a stroke,- But thou shall not lament Neither shalt thou weep, Neither shall come - thy tears:

And the stroke of his attacking-engine, will he direct against thy walls, - And thy tower., will he break down with his axes.

Thus have ye profaned me unto my people for handfuls of barley and for pieces of bread, Putting to death the souls that should not die, and Keeping alive the souls that should not live, - By your lying to my people I who hearken to lies