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charging cavalry,
    flashing swords,
shimmering spears,
    endless piles of the slain,
heaps of corpses,
    endless bodies to stumble over.
Because of the persistent debaucheries of the harlot,
    with her alluring facade as a mistress of sorcery,
who enslaved nations by her harlotries
    and peoples by her witchcraft.
“I am against you,”
    says the Lord of hosts.
“I will lift up your skirts over your face
    and exhibit your nakedness to the nations,
    your shame to the kingdoms.

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