Di Papa Im Anger Scatter Zion
Di poet call name of who do dis tin. Na di Papa wey dey rule over all bend di bow, measure di wall before e tear am down, come be like enemy to Zion. Pikin dey die for dia mama hand. Notin settle; di poem just dey beg make our Papa look and consider.
2 1See how di Sovereign Papa, for im anger, don cover daughter Zion with cloud! Im don throway di glory of Israel from heaven come ground; im no remember im footstool for di day of im anger. a a v1 Im footstool: na di temple for Jerusalem, di place for ground wey God presence bin dey. 2Di Sovereign Papa don swallow all di dwelling places of Jacob, no mercy at all; for im vex im don break down di strong-strong places of daughter Judah. Im don throway her kingdom and di rulers wey dey inside for ground with shame. 3For hot anger im don strip Israel comot all her power; im don draw back im right hand and leave dem bare for di enemy. Im don burn inside Jacob like fire wey dey blaze wey dey chop everything for every side. 4Im don bend im bow like enemy, im right hand ready like person wey wan fight; and im don kill all di people wey sweet to look. For inside di tent of daughter Zion im don pour im hot anger like fire. 5Di Sovereign Papa don turn like enemy; im don swallow Israel. Im don swallow all her palaces and turn her strong-strong places to ruins, and im don pile mourning and cry for daughter Judah. 6Im don tear down im shelter like garden, im don spoil di place wey im appoint. Our Papa don make Zion forget di feast and sabbath wey dem appoint, and for im hot anger im don reject king and priest. 7Di Sovereign Papa don reject im altar, im don throway im holy place; im don hand over di walls of her palaces to di enemy. Dem shout inside di house of our Papa like for festival day. 8Our Papa don decide to turn di wall of daughter Zion to ruins. Im stretch di measuring line; im no hold im hand back from destroying. Im make di rampart and wall dey cry; dem all fall to ruins together. 9Her gates don sink inside di ground; im don spoil and break her bars. Her king and her princes dey among di nations; di law no dey again, and her prophets no dey see any vision from our Papa. 10Di elders of daughter Zion dey sidon for ground quiet-quiet; dem don throw dust for their head and wear mourning cloth. Di young women of Jerusalem don bow their head reach ground. 11My eyes don tire from cry; my belle dey turn; my heart don pour for ground because of di destruction wey happen to di daughter of my people, as pikin and small baby dey faint for di streets of di city. 12Dem dey cry to their mama, “Where bread and wine dey?” as dem dey faint like people wey dem wound for di streets of di city, as their life dey pour comot for their mama hand. 13Wetin I fit talk for you, wetin I fit compare you with, daughter Jerusalem? Wetin I fit liken to you, so I fit comfort you, virgin daughter Zion? Because your destruction big like di sea; who fit heal you? 14Your prophets don see for you false and deceiving visions; dem no expose your sin to bring your better back, but dem don see for you messages wey be lie and wey dey lead you astray. 15Everybody wey dey pass dey clap their hand for you; dem dey hiss and shake their head for daughter Jerusalem: “Na dis be di city wey dem bin call di perfect fine city, di joy of di whole earth?” 16All your enemies open their mouth against you; dem dey hiss and grind their teeth and dey shout, “We don swallow am! Na dis be di day wey we bin dey wait for; we don get am, we don see am!” 17Our Papa don do wetin im plan; im don carry out im word wey im command since long time. Im don break am down, no pity; im don let di enemy laugh over you and lift up di power of di people wey hate you. 18Di people heart cry out to di Sovereign Papa. You wall of daughter Zion, make tears dey flow like river day and night! No give yourself rest, no give your eyes any break. 19Wake up, cry for night for di beginning of every night watch! Pour your heart like water for di front of di Sovereign Papa! Lift your hand to am for di life of your pikin dem, wey dey faint from hunger for every street corner. 20Look, our Papa, and think am well: who you don ever treat like dis? Abi women go chop their own pikin, di children wey dem carry for hand? Abi dem go kill priest and prophet for inside di holy place of di Sovereign Papa? 21Young and old dey lie for ground for di streets; my young women and my young men don fall by sword. You don kill dem for di day of your anger, you slaughter dem, no pity. 22You call terror come from every side, like say na festival day; and for di day of our Papa im anger nobody escape or survive. My enemy don destroy di ones wey I carry for hand and raise up.
