Ezekiel

¹ Sing the blues over the princes of Israel.

² What a lioness was your mother among lions! She crouched in a pride of young lions. Her cubs grew large.

³ a robust young lion. He learned to hunt. He ate men.

⁴ He was caught in a trap. They took him with hooks and dragged him to Egypt.

⁵ that her hope for that cub was gone, She took her other cub and made him a strong young lion.

⁶ a robust young lion. He learned to hunt. He ate men.

⁷ left their cities in ruins. The country and everyone in it was terrorized by the roars of the lion.

⁸ Everyone joined the hunt. They set out their traps and caught him.

⁹ and took him to the king of Babylon. No more would that voice be heard disturbing the peace in the mountains of Israel!

¹⁰ Your mother was like a vine in a vineyard, transplanted alongside streams of water, Luxurious in branches and grapes because of the ample water.

¹¹ fit to be carved into a royal scepter. It grew high, reaching into the clouds. Its branches filled the horizon, and everyone could see it.

¹² and thrown to the ground. The hot east wind shriveled it up and stripped its fruit. The sturdy branches dried out, fit for nothing but kindling.

¹³ a bare stick in a desert of death,

¹⁴ campfires in the desert. Not a hint now of those sturdy branches fit for use as a royal scepter! (This is a sad song, a text for singing the blues.)