Cross over to Tarshish; wail, O inhabitants of the coast!
And he said: “You will no more exult, O oppressed virgin daughter of Sidon; arise, cross over to Cyprus, even there you will have no rest.”
Cross over your land like the Nile, O daughter of Tarshish; there is no restraint anymore.
For they have fled from the swords, from the drawn sword, from the bent bow, and from the press of battle.
Therefore let Moab wail for Moab, let everyone wail. Mourn, utterly stricken, for the raisin cakes of Kir-hareseth.
The oracle concerning Tyre. Wail, O ships of Tarshish, for Tyre is laid waste, without house or harbor! From the land of Cyprus it is revealed to them. Be still, O inhabitants of the coast; the merchants of Sidon, who cross the sea, have filled you.
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