The many nations massing together are as good as dead, those who make a commotion as loud as the roaring of the sea’s waves. The people making such an uproar are as good as dead, those who make an uproar as loud as the roaring of powerful waves.

So my heart constantly sighs for Moab, like the strumming of a harp, my inner being sighs for Kir Hareseth.

I am the Lord your God, who churns up the sea so that its waves surge. The Lord who commands armies is his name!

We all growl like bears, we coo mournfully like doves; we wait for deliverance, but there is none, for salvation, but it is far from us.

The noisy city is full of raucous sounds; the town is filled with revelry. Your slain were not cut down by the sword; they did not die in battle.