Go down and sit in the dust, virgin Daughter Babylon! Sit on the ground without a throne, Daughter Chaldea, because they will no longer call you tender and pampered.
Take the millstones and grind flour! Remove your veil, strip off your robe, expose your thighs, wade through the rivers!
Your nakedness will be exposed, and your disgrace will be seen. I will take vengeance; no one will intervene.
Our redeemer has spoken; the LORD of heavenly forces is his name, the holy one of Israel.
Sit silent and go into darkness, Daughter Chaldea, because they will no longer call you Queen of Kingdoms.
I was enraged with my people; I made my inheritance impure and put them under your power. You took no pity on them. You made your yoke heavy even on the elderly.
You said, "I'm forever; I'm the eternal mistress." You didn't stop and think; you didn't consider the outcome.
So listen to this, luxuriant one who sits secure, who says in her heart, I'm utterly unique; I'll never sit as a widow; I'll never know childlessness:
Both of these will happen to you at once, on a single day: childlessness and widowhood will envelop you in full measure, despite your many sorceries, despite your very powerful spells.
You felt secure in your evil; you said, "No one sees me." Your wisdom and knowledge spun you around. You thought to yourself, I and no one else.
Now evil will come against you, something you won't anticipate. A curse will fall upon you, something you won't be able to dispel. Destruction will come upon you suddenly, something you won't foresee.
Continue with your enchantments, and with your many spells, which you have practiced since childhood. Maybe you will be able to succeed. Maybe you will inspire terror.
You are weary from all your consultations; let the astrologers stand up and save you, those who gaze at the stars, and predict what will happen to you at each new moon.
They are just like stubble; the fire burns them. They won't save themselves from the powerful flames. This is no warming ember or fire to sit beside.
Those with whom you have wearied yourself are like this, those with whom you were in business from your youth: each has wandered off on their own way; none will save you.