Emptiness, yea turned to emptiness, aye deserted is she ! with, heart, unnerved, and, a tottering, of knees, and, anguish, in all loins, and, the faces of them all, have withdrawn their colour.
And they shall be in distress—Writhings and pains, shall lay hold, As a woman in childbirth, shall they be in pangs,—Everyone, at his neighbour, shall look in amazement, Faces of flames, their faces!
Ask, I pray you, and see, whether a male travaileth with child! Why have I seen Every man with his hands upon his loins like a woman in travail, and Every face turned into ghastliness?
Where is the lair of the lions? Yea the very feeding-place of the young lions,—where walked the lion, the lioness, the lion’s whelp, with none to make them afraid?