YLT(i)
9 And turned have been her streams to pitch, And her dust to brimstone, And her land hath become burning pitch.
10 By night and by day she is not quenched, To the age go up doth her smoke, From generation to generation she is waste, For ever and ever, none is passing into her.
11 And possess her do pelican and hedge-hog, And owl and raven dwell in her, And He hath stretched out over her A line of vacancy, and stones of emptiness.
12 To the kingdom her freemen they call, But there are none there, And all her princes are at an end.