1 Woe to the city of bloodshed, packed with lies, crammed with loot, never letting go of its prey!
2 Hear the snap of whips, the clatter of wheels, horses at the gallop, chariots jolting along!
3 Riders spurring on, swords gleaming, spears flashing; slain beyond counting, piles of dead, bodies without number; men trip over their corpses —
4 all because of the endless harlotry of the harlot, so lovely and alluring, mistress of witchcraft, who traffics in nations with her harlotries and in clans with her spells.
5 Here I am against you, declares the LORD of hosts: I will pull your skirts up over your face and let the nations see you naked and the kingdoms see your shame.
6 I will pelt you with abominations, disgrace you and put you on display.
7 Everyone who sees you will run from you, saying, "Nineveh is ruined; who will mourn for her?" Where can I find anyone to console you?
8 Are you any better than No-amon, seated among the streams, with water surrounding her, the sea her bulwark, the waters her wall?
9 Cush and Egypt were her boundless strength; Put and the Libyans came to your aid.
10 Even so she was deported and went off as a captive; her babies were smashed at every street corner; lots were thrown for her nobles, and all her leading men were put in chains.
11 You too will be made drunk; you will be in hiding; you too will look for a place of safety from the enemy.
12 Every one of your strongholds is a fig tree with its first ripe fruit: give it a shake, and the figs drop straight into the mouth of whoever would eat.
13 Look at your troops: they are women in your midst. The gates of your country stand wide open to your enemies; fire has eaten up the bars of your gates.
14 Haul in water for the siege! Reinforce your fortifications! Step into the mud and stamp the clay; grip the brick mold!
15 Right there fire will consume you and the sword cut you down; it will eat you up as locusts do. Make yourself as many as the locusts, as many as the swarming locusts!
16 You made your traders more numerous than the stars in the sky; the locust sheds its skin and flies off.
17 Your courtiers are like locusts, your officials like swarm upon swarm that camp in the walls on a chilly day; once the sun comes up they are off, and where they went nobody knows.
18 King of Assyria, your shepherds are drowsing, your nobles lie still; your people are strewn across the mountains, and no one gathers them in.
19 Nothing can relieve your fracture; your wound is beyond cure. Everyone who hears what happened to you claps his hands at you, for who has not felt your cruelty without end?