So as to slaughter a slaughter it is sharpened. So as to have brightness it is polished, Desire hath rejoiced the sceptre of my son, It is despising every tree.
Cry and howl, son of man, For it hath been among My people, It `is' among all the princes of Israel, Cast unto the sword have been My people. Therefore strike on thy thigh,
And thou, son of man, prophesy, And smite hand on hand, And bent is the sword a third time, The sword of the wounded! It `is' the sword of the wounded -- the great one, That is entering the inner chamber to them.