Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 41

Before me, silence, keep, you, by the sea,

you islands, coastlands; to renew their strength,

let all the peoples draw near me and speak;

for judgment, let us all, as one, convene.

Who has, a champion, roused, from the east

and summoned him to, victory, achieve?

To him, the nations, he’s delivering,

and tramples, underneath his feet, their kings;

who, with his sword, them, into dust, he’ll cleave,

and, with his bow, chaff to the wind, he’ll heave.

He, them, pursues and will, unscathed, proceed,

the path, he’s scarcely touching with his feet.

Who did all this and who performed these deeds,

since the beginning, calling, forwardly,

the generations? I, the LORD, am first,

and I will be there with them at the last.

They saw all this and were afraid, the coast,

the islands trembled and shook end to end.

But, Is’rael, you, my servant, whom I chose,

you’re Jacob who from Abraham descends,

that patriarch whom I name as a friend;

You, whom I took out of the earth, its ends,

I summoned you from countries far away.

“You are my servant,” that to you I say,

“I’ve chosen you and haven’t, off, you, cast”;

Do not fear, for with you, I, present, am.

Afraid? I am your God, you shouldn’t be.

I’ll strengthen you, and help you actively.

The one victorious, with my right hand, 

I will uphold you.  Them, you will withstand;

all of them who are, you, against, incensed

themselves shall be ashamed, as well disgraced,

all those who strive against you, how they’ll be?

As nothing and they’ll perish finally.

Those who contend with you, out, you shall seek,

but you will not find their locality;

to nothing, how it is they’ll be reduced,

those ones who war and take up arms, you, ‘gainst.

For I, the LORD, your God, hold your right hand;

“Don’t fear,” I am the one, to you, who says,

“how I shall help you, do not be aghast.”

You, Jacob, are a worm, but do not fear,

and Is’rael, just a maggot, all you are.

It’s I who help you, what the LORD declares;

the Holy One of Is’rael, he is your

Redeemer.  You, to this, I shall transform:

a threshing sledge, both new and sharp, for wheat,

it’s one that’s fitted out with double teeth.

The mountains, into dust, them, you shall crush,

the hills to chaff, how, all of them, you’ll thresh.

You’ll winnow them, you’ll toss them in the gale

and then the wind will carry them away,

it’s how the tempest scatters them, that way.

Then, in the LORD, the manner you’ll rejoice,

the Holy One of Is’rael is the source,

you’ll glory in his person, that’s the place.

For water, what the poor and needy crave,

and there is none, their parched tongue’s thirst, to slake,

but I the LORD, their answer, I will say,

the God of Is’rael, I, them, won’t forsake.

I’ll open rivers on the arid heights,

and fountains in the valley’s deepest spike;

the desert, I shall turn into a lake

and dry land into gushing water streams.

The desert, I shall plant with cedar trees,

with olives, myrtle, and acacia;

the cypresses, the desert, in, I’ll place,

together with the pine, as well the plane

so that the people, see and know, they may,

they’ll once for all observe and understand

that, of the LORD, what’s done this is his hand,

the Holy One of Is’rael, who he is,

the one who has created all of this.

Set forth your case, the LORD says; and as well,

your proofs, bring them, the King of Jacob tells.

Let them bring them, tell us all what will be.

Tell us the former things of history,

and to us, then, the outcome, is revealed;

or, to us, all the things, declare, to be.

Tell us what is, hereafter, going to come

so that we can, that you are gods, confirm;

at least do something, whether good or bad

so that you’ll make us feel both awe and dread.

Indeed, you’re nothing and your work is doomed.

Abomination, is, one choosing you.

I’ve raised him from the north and he has come,

and from the east, he’s summoned by his name.

He tramples all the rulers just like mud,

he stomps them like a potter treading clay.

Who, this, from the beginning, has revealed,

for us to know, and in our history, 

to say, ‘That’s right’?  No one in fact disclosed

it, no one, it, proclaimed, no one has known

your speech.  First fruits of Zion, here, behold,

he’s coming now, a messenger, I send

Jerusalem, to bring you news that’s good.

But when I look, there’s no one to be found;

among all them, there is no counselor

who, when I ask, can serve as answerer.

Combined together they are nothingness,

their works are mere delusion, meaningless;

their idols are mere wind and emptiness.