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You also will be drunken. You will be hidden. You also will seek a stronghold because of the enemy.
All your fortresses will be like fig trees with the first-ripe figs: if they are shaken, they fall into the mouth of the eater.
Behold, your troops in your midst are women. The gates of your land are set wide open to your enemies. The fire has devoured your bars.
Draw water for the siege. Strengthen your fortresses. Go into the clay, and tread the mortar. Make the brick kiln strong.
There the fire will devour you. The sword will cut you off. It will devour you like the grasshopper. Multiply like grasshoppers. Multiply like the locust.
You have increased your merchants more than the stars of the skies. The grasshopper strips, and flees away.
Your guards are like the locusts, and your officials like the swarms of locusts, which settle on the walls on a cold day, but when the sun appears, they flee away, and their place is not known where they are.
Your shepherds slumber, king of Assyria. Your nobles lie down. Your people are scattered on the mountains, and there is no one to gather them.
There is no healing your wound, for your injury is fatal. All who hear the report of you clap their hands over you; for who hasn't felt your endless cruelty?