Howl, O gate; cry, O city; thou art melted away, O Philistia, all of thee; for there cometh a smoke out of the north, and there is no straggler in his ranks.

Send out a cry, O door! Make sounds of sorrow, O town! All your land has come to nothing, O Philistia; for there comes a smoke out of the north, and everyone keeps his place in the line.

Ολολυζε, πυλη· βοα, πολις· εχαθης, Παλαιστινη πασα· διοτι ερχεται καπνος απο βορρα, και ουδε εις θελει λειψει απο της εκστρατευσεως αυτου εν τοις ωρισμενοις καιροις.

Howl, O gate; cry, O city; thou, whole Palestina, art dissolved: for there shall come from the north a smoke, and none shall be alone in his appointed times.