Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 49

Rhyming Isaiah, Chapter 49

O coastlands, listen to me and now pay
attention, peoples, you, from far away!
The LORD called me before when I was born,
while I was in my mother’s womb, how he,
me, named.  My mouth, he made like a sharp sword,
and in the shadow of his hand concealed
me; like a polished arrow, he, me, made,
and in his quiver, he, away, me, hid.
“You are my servant,” and, to me, he said,
“you’re Is’rael, in whom I’ll be glorified.”
But I said, “Futile, has my toiling been,
for vanity and nothing, have I spent
my strength; yet surely, it is with the LORD,
my cause, and, with my God, is my reward.”

And now the LORD has spoken, who formed me
inside the womb, his servant, so, to be,
to, Jacob, back to him, I’d somehow bring,
and, gathered to him, Is’rael, that, might be,
so I might rise to honor in his sight,
the LORD’s, and, be my strength, how my God might–
the LORD says, “It is something that’s too light,
that you should be my servant so to raise
the tribes of Jacob, up, and to restore,
of Is’rael, the survivors.  You, I’ll make
a light unto the nations of the world,
that my salvation may, throughout the earth
reach there, its furthest bounds.  Thus says the LORD
of Is’rael, the Redeemer, all these words,
the Holy One, to one who is abhorred,
to one deeply despised, the rulers’ slave:
“When kings see you, this, how they will behave,
they’ll stand up, and the princes fall prostrate
because of how, the LORD, who’s full of faith,
has chosen you, he’s Is’rael’s Holy One.”

Thus says the LORD: It was, of favor, when,
a time, I answered you, and it was on
salvation’s day, was when I have helped you.
I have formed you and destined you to be
a light for peoples, making it anew,
the land, returning ravaged properties;
to say to all the prisoners, “Go free,”
to those in darkness, “Come, yourselves, reveal.”
Along the roadway, they will graze and feed,
on all the bare heights shall their pasture be.
They will not hunger, neither shall they thirst;
not scorching heat nor sun will, them, distress,
for he who pities them will be their lead,
and, springs of water, them, beside, he’ll guide.
Straight through my mountains, I’ll, a road, divide,
and upwards, all my highways will be raised.
See, some of them will come from far away.
Look, these are from the north and from the west,
and some, from Syene’s land, where they’ve progressed.

You heavens, shout for joy, rejoice, O earth;
you mountains, into song, you should break forth!
For how the LORD, his people, has consoled
and, on his suff’ring ones, compassion, shows.
But Zion said, “The LORD’s forgotten me,
my Lord, no longer, in his mind, me, keeps.”
How can a woman ever, him, forget,
her nursing child, or feel no tenderness
for, of her womb, the child that she begets.
Yet even if she would, these ones, forget,
I never shall forget you.  I’ve inscribed
upon the palms of my two hands, your name,
so that your walls are always in my sight.
Those who rebuild you, better speed, they make
than those who tore you down and laid you waste.
Now they, from you, flee, and they go away.
Around you, look, and your eyes, upwards, raise;
they are assembling, flocking back to you.
It’s by my life, the LORD’s, how I now swear,
you’ll put them on like they were glitt’ring jewels
and like a bride’s adornments, them, you’ll wear.

Indeed, I made you desolate and waste.
It’s to the ground, the place where I, you, razed,
but now the land is too small of a place
for its inhabitants while they who made
you to a ruin are now far away.
Once more, within your hearing, they will say,
the children, those who were born in the days
of your bereavement, “Too cramped is this place
for me; so I can live, room, for me, make.”
Then to yourself, this is what you will say,
“Who has, me, borne these? Barren, how I felt,
and too, bereaved, was exiled, put away–
so who’s reared these–I, all alone, was left–
where then did these come from, where is the place?”

Thus says the LORD God: I will beckon soon,
the nations, and my signal, I’ll make known
to all the peoples.  They shall bring your sons
within their bosom, and their shoulders, on,
your daughters will be carried, every one.
Then, kings, your foster fathers, what they’ll be,
and, as your nursing mothers, are their queens.
They’ll bow down to you with humility,
their faces to the ground, and from your feet,
they’ll lick the dust.  Then, you, with certainty,
will know that I’m the LORD, and who, in me,
will place their hope, to shame, put, will not be.

Can booty, taken, from a warrior, be,
or can the tyrant’s captives be set free?
But thus the LORD says, Captives will indeed
be, from the tyrant warrior, snatched away
and rescued from the ruthless is the prey;
for I myself will be he who contends
with those who are contending, you, against,
and I’ll deliver, children, your, from them.
Those ones who in the past have, you, oppressed,
what I’ll make them consume: it’s their own flesh,
and they will be as drunk on, blood, their own
as if with wine, and all mankind will know
that I’m the LORD who is your Savior sure,
and Jacob’s Mighty One, Redeemer, your.