7 I winnowed them with a winnowing forkat the gates of the land;I have bereaved, destroyed my people;they have not turned from their evil ways.
8 Their widows were more numerous before methan the sands of the sea.I brought against the mother of youthsthe destroyer at midday;Suddenly I struck herwith anguish and terror.
9 The mother of seven faints away,breathing out her life;Her sun sets in full day,she is ashamed, abashed.Their survivors I will give to the swordin the presence of their enemies—oracle of the Lord.
10 Woe to me, my mother, that you gave me birth!a man of strife and contention to all the land!I neither borrow nor lend,yet everyone curses me.
11 Tell me, Lord, have I not served you for their good?Have I not interceded with youin time of misfortune and anguish?
12 Can one break iron,iron from the north, and bronze?
13 Your wealth and your treasuresI give as plunder, demanding no payment,because of all your sins, throughout all your territory.