Ezequiel 21

It is sharpened for sore slaughter, it is furbished that it may glitter. Shall we then make mirth, †saying, The sceptre of my son contemneth all wood?

Para degollar víctimas está afilada, acicalada está para que relumbre. ¿Hemos de alegrarnos? A la vara de mi hijo viene menospreciando todo árbol.

It is sharpened to make a sore slaughter; it is furbished that it may glitter: should we then make mirth? it contemneth the rod of my son, as every tree.

It is sharpened that it may make a slaughter. It is polished that it may be as lightning. Should we then make mirth? The rod of my son condemns every tree.