¹² The vine hath been dried up, And the fig-tree doth languish, Pomegranate, also palm, and apple-tree, All trees of the field have withered, For dried up hath been joy from the sons of men.

¹¹ A cry over the wine `is' in out-places, Darkened hath been all joy, Removed hath been the joy of the land.

¹⁰ And removed have been gladness and joy from the fruitful field, And in vineyards they sing not, nor shout, Wine in the presses treadeth not the treader, Shouting I have caused to cease.

¹⁰ Spoiled is the field, mourned hath the ground, For spoiled is the corn, Dried up hath been new wine, languish doth oil.

³ As a citron among trees of the forest, So `is' my beloved among the sons, In his shade I delighted, and sat down, And his fruit `is' sweet to my palate.

¹⁹ Is the seed yet in the barn? And hitherto the vine and the fig, And the pomegranate, and the olive-tree, Have not borne -- from this day I bless.'

¹⁷ Though the fig-tree doth not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, Failed hath the work of the olive, And fields have not yielded food, Cut off from the fold hath been the flock, And there is no herd in the stalls.

¹⁸ Yet I, in Jehovah I exult, I do joy in the God of my salvation.

¹⁶ Is not before our eyes food cut off? From the house of our God joy and rejoicing?

¹ `Rejoice not, O Israel, be not joyful like the peoples, For thou hast gone a-whoring from thy God, Thou hast loved a gift near all floors of corn.

² Floor and wine-press do not delight them, And new wine doth fail in her,

³³ And removed hath been joy and gladness From the fruitful field, Even from the land of Moab, And wine from wine-presses I have caused to cease, Shouting doth not proceed, The shouting `is' no shouting!

³ A voice of a cry `is' from Horonaim, Spoiling and great destruction.

³ Thou hast multiplied the nation, Thou hast made great its joy, They have joyed before Thee as the joy in harvest, As `men' rejoice in their apportioning spoil.

⁷ This thy stature hath been like to a palm, And thy breasts to clusters.

⁸ I said, `Let me go up on the palm, Let me lay hold on its boughs, Yea, let thy breasts be, I pray thee, as clusters of the vine, And the fragrance of thy face as citrons,

⁹ And thy palate as the good wine --' Flowing to my beloved in uprightness, Strengthening the lips of the aged!

¹³ Thy shoots a paradise of pomegranates, With precious fruits,

¹² The righteous as a palm-tree flourisheth, As a cedar in Lebanon he groweth.

⁷ Thou hast given joy in my heart, From the time their corn and their wine Have been multiplied.

²³ and they come in unto the brook of Eshcol, and cut down thence a branch and one cluster of grapes, and they bear it on a staff by two, also `some' of the pomegranates, and of the figs.