“Doom to Nebo! Leveled to the ground!
    Kiriathaim demeaned and defeated,
The mighty fortress reduced to a molehill,
    Moab’s glory—dust and ashes.
Conspirators plot Heshbon’s doom:
    ‘Come, let’s wipe Moab off the map.’
The city of Madmen will be struck mute,
    as killing follows killing.
Listen! A cry out of Horonaim:
    ‘Disaster—doom and more doom!’
Moab will be shattered.
    Her cries will be heard clear down in Zoar.
Up the ascent of Luhith
    climbers weep,
And down the descent from Horonaim,
    cries of loss and devastation.
Oh, run for your lives! Get out while you can!
    Survive by your wits in the wild!
You trusted in thick walls and big money, yes?
    But it won’t help you now.
Your big god Chemosh will be hauled off,
    his priests and managers with him.
A wrecker will wreck every city.
    Not a city will survive.
The valley fields will be ruined,
    the plateau pastures destroyed, just as I told you.
Cover the land of Moab with salt.
    Make sure nothing ever grows here again.
Her towns will all be ghost towns.
    Nobody will ever live here again.
Sloppy work in God’s name is cursed,
    and cursed all halfhearted use of the sword.