27 There is none weary, nor stumbling in it, It doth not slumber, nor sleep, Nor opened hath been the girdle of its loins, Nor drawn away the latchet of its sandals.
28 Whose arrows 'are' sharp, and all its bows bent, Hoofs of its horses as flint have been reckoned, And its wheels as a hurricane!
29 Its roaring 'is' like a lioness, It roareth like young lions, And it howleth, and seizeth prey, And carrieth away safely, and there is none delivering.
30 And it howleth against it in that day as the howling of a sea, And it hath looked attentively to the land, And lo, darkness -- distress, And light hath been darkened by its abundance!
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