Nahum 3

¹Woe to the bloody city,

all full of lies and booty—

no end to the plunder!

²The crack of whip, and rumble of wheel,

galloping horse and bounding chariot!

³Horsemen charging,

flashing sword and glittering spear,

hosts of slain,

heaps of corpses,

dead bodies without end—

they stumble over the bodies!

⁴And all for the countless harlotries of the harlot,

graceful and of deadly charms,

who betrays nations with her harlotries,

and peoples with her charms.

⁵Behold, I am against you,

says the Lord of hosts,

and will lift up your skirts over your face;

and I will let nations look on your nakedness

and kingdoms on your shame.

⁶I will throw filth at you

and treat you with contempt,

and make you a gazingstock.

⁷And all who look on you will shrink from you and say,

Wasted is Ninʹeveh; who will bemoan her?

whence shall I seek comforters for her?

⁸Are you better than Thebes

that sat by the Nile,

with water around her,

her rampart a sea,

and water her wall?

⁹Ethiopia was her strength,

Egypt too, and that without limit;

Put and the Libyans were her helpers.

¹⁰Yet she was carried away,

she went into captivity;

her little ones were dashed in pieces

at the head of every street;

for her honored men lots were cast,

and all her great men were bound in chains.

¹¹You also will be drunken,

you will be dazed;

you will seek

a refuge from the enemy.

¹²All your fortresses are like fig trees

with first-ripe figs—

if shaken they fall

into the mouth of the eater.

¹³Behold, your troops

are women in your midst.

The gates of your land

are wide open to your foes;

fire has devoured your bars.

¹⁴Draw water for the siege,

strengthen your forts;

go into the clay,

tread the mortar,

take hold of the brick mold!

¹⁵There will the fire devour you,

the sword will cut you off.

It will devour you like the locust.

Multiply yourselves like the locust,

multiply like the grasshopper!

¹⁶You increased your merchants

more than the stars of the heavens.

The locust spreads its wings and flies away.

¹⁷Your princes are like grasshoppers,

your scribes like clouds of locusts

settling on the fences

in a day of cold—

when the sun rises, they fly away;

no one knows where they are.

¹⁸Your shepherds are asleep,

O king of Assyria;

your nobles slumber.

Your people are scattered on the mountains

with none to gather them.

¹⁹There is no assuaging your hurt,

your wound is grievous.

All who hear the news of you

clap their hands over you.

For upon whom has not come

your unceasing evil?