Are you better than No-amon, Which was situated by the canals of the Nile, With water surrounding her, Whose rampart was the sea, Whose wall consisted of the sea?

Yet she became an exile, She went into captivity; Also her small children were smashed to pieces At the head of every street; They cast lots for her honorable men, And all her great men were bound with shackles.

You too will become drunk, You will be hidden. You too will search for a refuge from the enemy.

All your fortifications are fig trees with ripe fruit— When shaken, they fall into the eater’s mouth.

Draw for yourself water for a siege! Strengthen your fortifications! Go into the clay and tread the mortar! Take hold of the brick mold!

There fire will consume you, The sword will cut you down; It will consume you as the creeping locust consumes a crop. Multiply yourself like the creeping locust, Multiply yourself like the migratory locust.

You have made your traders more numerous than the stars of heaven— The creeping locust sheds its skin and flies away.

Your courtiers are like the migratory locust. Your officials are like a swarm of locusts Settling in the stone shelters on a cold day. The sun rises and they flee, And the place where they are is not known.

Your shepherds are sleeping, O king of Assyria; Your officers are lying down. Your people are scattered on the mountains And there is no one to gather them.