Their chariots storm through the streets, jostling each other along broad avenues. They look like torches, as they dart around like lightning.

Destruction, devastation, and desolation! Their hearts faint, their knees tremble, each stomach churns, each face turns pale!

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?