Woe to those devising iniquity, And working evil on their beds, In the light of the morning they do it, For their hand is -- to God.

Be pained, and bring forth, O daughter of Zion, As a travailing woman, For now, thou goest forth from the city, And thou hast dwelt in the field, And thou hast gone unto Babylon, There thou art delivered, There redeem thee doth Jehovah from the hand of thine enemies.

High is thy hand above thine adversaries, And all thine enemies are cut off.

And have cut off sorcerers out of thy hand, And observers of clouds thou hast none.

Perished hath the kind out of the land, And upright among men -- there are none, All of them for blood lie in wait, Each his brother they hunt with a net.

See do nations, and they are ashamed of all their might, They lay a hand on the mouth, their ears are deaf.