Look at your troops: they are women in your midst. The gates of your land are wide open to your foes; fire has devoured the bars of your gates.
Draw water for the siege, strengthen your forts; trample the clay, tread the mortar, take hold of the brick mold!
There the fire will devour you, the sword will cut you off. It will devour you like the locust. Multiply yourselves like the locust, multiply like the grasshopper!
You increased your merchants more than the stars of the heavens. The locust sheds its skin and flies away.
Your guards are like grasshoppers, your scribes like swarms a of locusts settling on the fences on a cold day— when the sun rises, they fly away; no one knows where they have gone.
Your shepherds are asleep, O king of Assyria; your nobles slumber. Your people are scattered on the mountains with no one to gather them.
There is no assuaging your hurt, your wound is mortal. All who hear the news about you clap their hands over you. For who has ever escaped your endless cruelty?
New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright 1989, Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. (New Revised Standard Bible Version Online)