To the measure of her boasting and wantonness repay her in torment and grief; for she said to herself, ‘I sit enthroned as queen; I am no widow, and I will never know grief.’
How solitary sits the city, once filled with people. She who was great among the nations is now like a widow. Once a princess among the provinces, now a toiling slave.
The pride of your heart has deceived you— you who dwell in mountain crevices, in your lofty home, Who say in your heart, “Who will bring me down to earth?”
Is this the exultant city that dwelt secure, That told itself, “I and there is no one else”? How it has become a waste, a lair for wild animals! Those who pass by it hiss, and shake their fists!
For all the nations have drunk the wine of her licentious passion. The kings of the earth had intercourse with her, and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her drive for luxury.”