Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 27

(Image Attribution: Depiction of Leviathan from the Middle Ages often found in grimoires, by an unknown artist PD-Art)

Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 27

The LORD, on that day, with his sword that’s cruel,
his sword that’s mighty, strong, he, punish, will,
Leviathan, the serpent that is coiled,
Leviathan, the dragon, as he flees.
Yes, he will slay the monster of the sea.

On that day: of the splendid vineyard, sing!
It’s I, the LORD, this place is what I keep,
and every moment, I’m, it, watering,
to care for it so they don’t wilt, its leaves;
I have no wrath against it, what I feel.
I tend it daily, but I get no wine.
I would as soon have only thorns and bri’rs.
Then as if in a battle, how I’d, down,
it, trample, and, it, I would also burn.
Or else, so that, it will, protected, be,
let it cling to me, make its peace with me–
unless, with me, how it will make its peace.

In days to come, how Jacob shall take root,
shall Is’rael blossom and put forth its shoots,
and how it will fill up the world with fruit.

Has he struck them down as he has struck down
those who struck them? Or is that they’ve been
killed just the way their killers have been killed?
Exiling them, and them, you have expelled,
that sentence, executed, them, against,
away he has blown them with his fierce blast
just as the east wind. For then Jacob’s guilt
will be forgiven, this is the result
of his sin, him, renouncing it, the fruit:
when, into pieces, he, the altar stones
will smash like bits of chalk. The sacred poles
and incense altars, they’ll no longer stand.
For how the city, fortified, is found?
It’s desolate, a homestead that’s bereft
of foliage, forsaken wilderness.
The calves graze there, and there, they downwards lie,
and they will, all the branches’ twigs, destroy.
They’re broken off when all their boughs grow dry,
the women come and, of them, make a fire.
This is a people, sense is what they lack;
therefore he, that made them, on them won’t have
compassion; he that formed them will show them
no favor. On that day the LORD will thresh
the grain that grows, from the Euphrates’ streams
to Egypt’s wadi, one by one, you’ll be,
up, gathered, all the people of Is’rael.
A trumpet, great, on that day, blown, be, will,
and who were, in Assyria, lost, those,
and those who, out to Egypt, had been drove,
the LORD, they’ll come and worship, all of them,
its holy mountain, on, Jerusalem’s.