Who is this coming from Edom, from Bozrah in bright red garments, this splendidly dressed one, stridinga with great power? It is I, proclaiming righteousness, powerful to save!
Why is your clothing red, and your garments like those of one who stomps on grapes?
I have pressed out in the vat by myself—from the peoples, no one was with me. I stomped on them in my anger, trampled them in my wrath. Their blood splashed on my garments, and stained all my clothing,
because I intended a day of vengeance; the year of my deliverance had arrived.
I looked and found no helper; I was astonished to find no supporter. But my arm brought victory for me; my wrath helped me.
I trampled down nations in my anger and made them drunk on my wrath; I spilled their blood on the ground.