Philistia

Peoples have heard, they are troubled; Pain hath seized inhabitants of Philistia.

Moab is my pot for washing, over Edom I cast my shoe, Shout, concerning me, O Philistia.

I mention Rahab and Babel to those knowing Me, Lo, Philistia, and Tyre, with Cush! This one was born there.

Moab is a pot for my washing, Upon Edom I cast my shoe, Over Philistia I shout habitually.

Rejoice not thou, Philistia, all of thee, That broken hath been the rod of thy smiter, For from the root of a serpent cometh out a viper, And its fruit is a flying saraph.

Howl, O gate; cry, O city, Melted art thou, Philistia, all of thee, For from the north smoke hath come, And there is none alone in his set places.