Woe to the land of the whirring of wings, Which is beyond the rivers of Cush,

The land that sends envoys on the sea, Even in papyrus vessels upon the surface of the water. Go, swift messengers, To a nation tall and smooth of skin, To a people feared from there and beyond, A nation of command upon command and of treading down others, Whose land the rivers cut through.

All you inhabitants of the world and dwellers on the earth, When the standard is raised on the mountains, you will see it; And when the horn is blown, you will hear it.

For thus has Jehovah spoken to me, I will be quiet and observe in My lodging place, Like glowing heat in the sunshine, Like a cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.

For before the harvest, when the bud is full And the flower becomes the ripening grape, He will cut off the sprigs with pruning knives, And the tendrils He will remove and cut away.

They will be left together for the mountain birds And for the beasts of the earth. And the birds will spend summer on them, And all the beasts of the earth will spend harvest time on them.

At that time a gift will be brought to Jehovah of hosts from a people tall and smooth of skin, even from a people feared from there and beyond, a nation of command upon command and of treading down others, whose land the rivers cut through, unto the place of the name of Jehovah of hosts, Mount Zion.