For they will be consumed
like entangled thorns,
like the drink of a drunkard
and like straw that is fully dry.

This is what the Lord says:

Though they are strong and numerous,
they will still be mowed down,
and he will pass away.
Though I have afflicted you,
I will afflict you no longer.

The chariots dash madly through the streets;
they rush around in the plazas.
They look like torches;
they dart back and forth like lightning.

He gives orders to his officers;
they stumble as they advance.
They race to its wall;
the protective shield is set in place.

Nineveh has been like a pool of water
from her first days,
but they are fleeing.
“Stop! Stop!” they cry,
but no one turns back.

Charging horseman,
flashing sword,
shining spear;
heaps of slain,
mounds of corpses,
dead bodies without end—
they stumble over their dead.

Yet she became an exile;
she went into captivity.
Her children were also dashed to pieces
at the head of every street.
They cast lots for her dignitaries,
and all her nobles were bound in chains.

All your fortresses are fig trees
with figs that ripened first;
when shaken, they fall—
right into the mouth of the eater!

Your court officials are like the swarming locust,
and your scribes like clouds of locusts,
which settle on the walls on a cold day;
when the sun rises, they take off,
and no one knows where they are.