Look, ambassadors cry out in the streets; messengers sent to make peace weep bitterly.

He will not cry out or shout; he will not publicize himself in the streets.

In their streets they wear sackcloth; on their roofs and in their town squares all of them wail, they fall down weeping.

They howl in the streets because of what happened to the wine; all joy turns to sorrow; celebrations disappear from the earth.

I sent him against a godless nation, I ordered him to attack the people with whom I was angry, to take plunder and to carry away loot, to trample them down like dirt in the streets.

Your children faint; they lie at the head of every street like an antelope in a snare. They are left in a stupor by the Lord’s anger, by the battle cry of your God.

I will put it into the hand of your tormentors who said to you, ‘Lie down, so we can walk over you.’ You made your back like the ground, and like the street for those who walked over you.”

So the Lord is furious with his people; he lifts his hand and strikes them. The mountains shake, and corpses lie like manure in the middle of the streets. Despite all this, his anger does not subside, and his hand is ready to strike again.