The chariots drive wildly in the streets, They rush around in the public squares; Their appearance is like torches, They drive back and forth like lightning flashes.
He remembers his officers; They stumble in their advance, They hurry to her wall, And the mantelet is set up.
The gates of the rivers are opened And the palace sways back and forth.
It is set: She is stripped, she is led away, And her slave women are sobbing like the sound of doves, Beating their breasts.
Though Nineveh was
like a pool of water throughout her days, Yet they are fleeing; 'Stop, stop,' But no one turns back.
Plunder the silver, Plunder the gold! For there is no end to the treasure— Wealth from every kind of
She is emptied! Yes, she is desolate and waste! Hearts are melting and knees wobbling! Also trembling is in the entire body, And all their faces have become pale!
Where is the den of the lions And the feeding place of the young lions, Where the lion, lioness, and
lion’s cub went With nothing to disturb them?
The lion tore enough for his cubs, Killed enough prey
for his lionesses, And filled his lairs with prey And his dens with torn flesh.