And all her graven images are beaten down, And all her gifts are burnt with fire, And all her idols I make a desolation, For, from the hire of a harlot she gathered, and unto the hire of a harlot they return.

For this I lament and howl, I go spoiled and naked, I make a lamentation like dragons, And a mourning like daughters of an ostrich.

Make bald and shave, for thy delightful sons, Enlarge thy baldness as an eagle, For they have removed from thee!

Arise, and thresh, O daughter of Zion, For thy horn I make iron, And thy hoofs I make brass, And thou hast beaten small many peoples, And I have devoted to Jehovah their gain, And their wealth to the Lord of the whole earth!

And I also, I have begun to smite thee, To make desolate, because of thy sins.