New International Version - UK
17 Your guards are like locusts,
your officials like swarms of locusts
that settle in the walls on a cold day –
but when the sun appears they fly away,
and no one knows where.
18 King of Assyria, your shepherds[a] slumber;
your nobles lie down to rest.
Your people are scattered on the mountains
with no one to gather them.
19 Nothing can heal you;
your wound is fatal.
All who hear the news about you
clap their hands at your fall,
for who has not felt
your endless cruelty?
- Nahum 3:18 That is, rulers