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Nahum 3

Woe to Nineveh

Woe to the city of bloodshed, completely full of deception and pillage;
Her prey never departs.
The sound of the whip,
And the sound of the rumbling of the wheel,
Galloping horses,
And bounding chariots!
Horsemen charging,
And swords flaming, and spears flashing,
Many slain, a mass of corpses,
And there is no end to dead bodies—
They stumble over the dead bodies!
All because of the many harlotries of the harlot,
The charming one, the mistress of sorceries,
Who sells nations by her harlotries
And families by her sorceries.
“Behold, I am against you,” declares Yahweh of hosts;
“And I will uncover your skirts over your face
And show to the nations your nakedness
And to the kingdoms your disgrace.
I will throw detestable filth on you
And display you as a wicked fool
And set you up as a spectacle.
And it will be that all who see you
Will flee from you and say,
‘Nineveh is devastated!
Who will console her?’
Where will I seek comforters for you?”

Are you better than No‑amon,
Which sits along the waters of the Nile,
With water surrounding her,
Whose rampart was the sea,
Whose wall consisted of the sea?
Ethiopia was her might,
And Egypt too, without end.
Put and Lubim were among her helpers.
Yet she became an exile;
She went into captivity;
Also her infants were dashed to pieces
At the head of every street;
They cast lots for her honorable men,
And all her great men were bound with fetters.
You too will become drunk;
You will be hidden.
You too will search for a strong defense from the enemy.
All your fortifications are fig trees with ripe fruit—
When shaken, they fall into the eater’s mouth.
Behold, your people are women in your midst!
The gates of your land are opened wide to your enemies;
Fire consumes your gate bars.
Draw for yourself water for the siege!
Strengthen your fortifications!
Go into the clay and tread the mortar!
Take hold of the brick mold!
There, fire will consume you;
The sword will cut you down;
It will consume you as the locust does.

Multiply yourself like the creeping locust,
Multiply yourself like the swarming locust.
You have increased your traders more than the stars of heaven—
The creeping locust strips and flies away.
Your guardsmen are like the swarming locust.
Your marshals are like a locust‑swarm
Encamping in the stone walls on a cold day.
The sun rises, and they flee,
And the place where they are is not known.
Your shepherds are sleeping, O king of Assyria;
Your mighty ones are lying down.
Your people are scattered on the mountains,
And there is no one to regather them.
There is no relief for your breakdown,
Your wound is incurable.
All who hear the report about you
Will clap their hands over you,
For on whom has not your evil passed continually?