¹ Disaster! Land of the whirring locust beyond the rivers of Cush,

² who send ambassadors by sea, in little reed-boats across the waters! Go, swift messengers to a nation tall and bronzed, to a people feared far and near, a mighty and masterful nation whose country is criss-crossed with rivers.

³ All you who inhabit the world, you who people the earth, when the signal is hoisted on the mountains, you will see, when the ram's-horn is sounded, you will hear.

⁴ For this is what Yahweh has told me, 'I shall sit here quietly looking down, like the burning heat in the daytime, like a dewy mist in the heat of harvest.'

⁵ For, before the harvest, once the flowering is over and blossom turns into ripening grape, the branches will be cut off with pruning knives, and the shoots taken off, cut away.

⁶ All has been abandoned to the mountain birds of prey and the wild animals: the birds of prey will summer on them, and all the wild animals winter on them.

⁷ Then, an offering will be brought to Yahweh Sabaoth on behalf of a people tall and bronzed, on behalf of a people feared far and near, on behalf of a mighty and masterful nation whose country is criss-crossed with rivers: to the place where the name of Yahweh Sabaoth resides, Mount Zion.