¹⁷ Your guards are like locusts.
    Your officers are like swarms of locusts
    that hang on the walls on a cold day.
When the sun comes up, they fly away,
    and no one knows where they have gone.
¹⁸ King of Assyria, your rulers are asleep;
    your important men lie down to rest.
Your people have been scattered on the mountains,
    and there is no one to bring them back.
¹⁹ Nothing can heal your wound;
    your injury will not heal.
Everyone who hears about you applauds,
    because everyone has felt your endless cruelty.