Nahum 3
1 Woe to the city of blood, full of lies, full of plunder, never without prey.
Hankàñe amy rova mpampiori-dioy, lifotse vande naho vara kinopake, le lia’e tsy modo o tsindroheñeo.
2 The crack of the whip, the rumble of the wheel, galloping horse and bounding chariot!
Inay ty karavantsy! Inao ty fikatrakatrà’ o laròn-tsareteo; heheke ty fitsapiotsapio’ o soavalao, naho o sarete mitrakotrakoo.
3 Charging horseman, flashing sword, shining spear; heaps of slain, mounds of corpses, dead bodies without end— they stumble over their dead—
Mañoridañe o mpiningitse soavalao, mimilomilotse i fibaray; mipelapelatse i lefoñey; zinamañe i lahialeñey, tsifotofoto o votrin-doloo, o fañova mifitakeo; ie mitsikapy amo fateo;
4 because of the many harlotries of the harlot, the seductive mistress of sorcery, who betrays nations by her prostitution and clans by her witchcraft.
ty ami’ty hamaro’ o hakarapiloa’ i tsimirira kenakenakeio, i hekohekom-pamorekey, i mandetake fifeheañe amo hakalalijaha’eoy, naho hasavereñañe amo famoreha’eo.
5 “Behold, I am against you,” declares the LORD of Hosts. “I will lift your skirts over your face. I will show your nakedness to the nations and your shame to the kingdoms.
Inao! miatreatre azo iraho, hoe t’Iehovà’ i Màroy, le hatsingako an-doha’o eo o siki’oo, naho haboako amo kilakila’ondatio ty fihalo’o vaho amo fifeheañeo ty heña’o.
6 I will pelt you with filth and treat you with contempt; I will make a spectacle of you.
Hafetsako ama’o ty raha mampangorý, hanivà’e azo, ie hanoeko fisambàñe.
7 Then all who see you will recoil from you and say, ‘Nineveh is devastated; who will grieve for her?’ Where can I find comforters for you?”
Ie amy zao, hene handripak’ ama’o ze maharendrek’ azo, hanao ty hoe: Fa mangoakoake ty Ninevè; ia’ ty handala aze? aia ty hahatreavako mpañohò ho azo.
8 Are you better than Thebes, stationed by the Nile with water around her, whose rampart was the sea, whose wall was the water?
Soa te amy No-amone v’iheo, Ie nitoetse añivon-tsaka eoy, naho niarikatohen-drano, i riakey ty nañaro aze, naho i ranoy ty ni-kijoli’e?
9 Cush and Egypt were her boundless strength; Put and Libya were her allies.
I Kose naho i Mitsraime ty nanolo-kaozarañ’ ama’e tsy nete ritse; nimpañolots’aze t’i Pote naho i Lobý.
10 Yet she became an exile; she went into captivity. Her infants were dashed to pieces at the head of every street. They cast lots for her dignitaries, and all her nobles were bound in chains.
F’ie nasese mb’eo, nisese mb’am-pandrohizañe añe, fonga naretsak’ an-doha’ o lalan-drovao ey o anak’ ajaja’eo; nanoe’ iereo tsato-piso o roandria’eo, vaho rinohy an-tsilisily iaby o ana-dona’eo.
11 You too will become drunk; you will go into hiding and seek refuge from the enemy.
Toe ho jike ka irehe, vaho hiàmpitse; ie hipay fitsolohañe ty amy rafelahiy.
12 All your fortresses are fig trees with the first ripe figs; when shaken, they fall into the mouth of the eater!
Manahake o rotseo ze hene golobo’o mifahetse, ie ezeñezeñeñe ro mihintsañe mb’am-paliem-pikama ao.
13 Look at your troops— they are like your women! The gates of your land are wide open to your enemies; fire consumes their bars.
Oniño te hambañe aman’ampela ondaty añivo’oo; midañadaña ho a o rafelahio o lalambein-tane’oo; hampangotomomohe’ ty afo o sikada’eo.
14 Draw your water for the siege; strengthen your fortresses. Work the clay and tread the mortar; repair the brick kiln!
Mitariha rano ho amy fiarikoboñañey, haozaro o kijolio; mionjona amo lietseo, lialiao i pakotsey, vontitiro i mòlim-birìkey;
15 There the fire will devour you; the sword will cut you down and consume you like a young locust. Make yourself many like the young locust; make yourself many like the swarming locust!
Hamorototo azo ao ty afo, hañito azo i fibaray, habotse’e manahake i valalay; mifamorohota hoe kijeja, mivorovoroa hoe sy.
16 You have multiplied your merchants more than the stars of the sky. The young locust strips the land and flies away.
Nampamasiañe’o mandikoatse o vasian-dikerañeo o mpibalibalik’ ama’oo; miofoke i kijejay vaho mitiliñe añe.
17 Your guards are like the swarming locust, and your scribes like clouds of locusts that settle on the walls on a cold day. When the sun rises, they fly away, and no one knows where.
Hoe valala o mpigari’oo, mifamorohotse hoe kijeja o mpifehe’oo, ie mitobe an-kijoly eo naho manintsiñe ty andro, fe mipitsik’ añe te mafana-voho, vaho tsy fohiñe ty tane nombà’e.
18 O king of Assyria, your shepherds slumber; your officers sleep. Your people are scattered on the mountains with no one to gather them.
Mirotse o mpiara’oo ry mpanjaka’ i Asore, mitofa o roandria’oo; mivarakaik’ am-bohitse ey ondati’oo, vaho tsy eo ty hanontoña’o.
19 There is no healing for your injury; your wound is severe. All who hear the news of you applaud your downfall, for who has not experienced your constant cruelty?
Tsy hay melañeñe ty bae’o, mahaferenay o fere’oo; fonga hitehateha-pitàñe ty ama’o o mahajanjiñe i talili’oio; fa ia ty tsy nifetsaha’ o fampisoaña’o nitoloñeñe nainai’eo?
