The chariots dash madly through the streets;
they rush around in the plazas.
They look like torches;
they dart back and forth like lightning.
He gives orders to his officers;
they stumble as they advance.
They race to its wall;
the protective shield is set in place.
“Plunder the silver! Plunder the gold! ”
There is no end to the treasure,
an abundance of every precious thing.
Desolation, decimation, devastation!
Hearts melt,
knees tremble,
insides churn,
every face grows pale!
Where is the lions’ lair,
or the feeding ground of the young lions,
where the lion and lioness prowled,
and the lion’s cub,
with nothing to frighten them away?
The lion mauled whatever its cubs needed
and strangled prey for its lionesses.
It filled up its dens with the kill,
and its lairs with mauled prey.
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