‘How terrible it is for that blood-filled city,
    to the pot whose rust remains in it,
        whose rust won’t come off.
Empty it one piece at a time.
    Don’t let a lot fall on it.
⁷ Her blood was in it.
    She poured it out onto bare rock.
She didn’t pour it out on the ground,
    intending to cover it with dirt.
⁸ In order to stir up my anger
    and in order to take vengeance,
I set the blood on a bare rock
    so that it cannot be covered.’