C ry out, O gate. Cry, O city. All you Philistines are weak in heart. For smoke comes from the north, and everyone keeps his place in his army.
Gemi, poartă! Boceşte-te, cetate! Cutremură-te, toată ţara Filistenilor! Căci un fum vine dela miază noapte, şi şirurile vrăjmaşului sînt strînse.``
Continue reading Report error