He has let loose his arrows into the inmost parts of my body.
The arrow is not able to put him to flight: stones are no more to him than dry stems.
For the arrows of the Ruler of all are present with me, and their poison goes deep into my spirit: his army of fears is put in order against me.
Their arrows give certain death, they are all men of war.
His bow has been bent for the attack, he has taken his place with his hand ready, in his hate he has put to death all who were pleasing to the eye: on the tent of the daughter of Zion he has let loose his passion like fire.
I will send a rain of troubles on them, my arrows will be showered on them.