Your land is desolate,
your cities burned with fire;
foreigners devour your fields
before your very eyes—
a desolation demolished by foreigners.

I will sing about the one I love,
a song about my loved one’s vineyard:
The one I love had a vineyard
on a very fertile hill.

We have heard of Moab’s pride—
how very proud he is—
his haughtiness, his pride, his arrogance,
and his empty boasting.

And now the Lord says, “In three years, as a hired worker counts years, Moab’s splendor will become an object of contempt, in spite of a very large population. And those who are left will be few and weak.”

Only gleanings will be left in Israel,
as if an olive tree had been beaten—
two or three berries at the very top of the tree,
four or five on its fruitful branches.
This is the declaration of the Lord,
the God of Israel.

From the ends of the earth we hear songs:
The Splendor of the Righteous One.

But I said, “I waste away! I waste away!
Woe is me.”
The treacherous act treacherously;
the treacherous deal very treacherously.

this iniquity of yours will be
like a spreading breach,
a bulge in a high wall
whose collapse will come in an instant—suddenly!

I was angry with My people;
I profaned My possession,
and I placed them under your control.
You showed them no mercy;
you made your yoke very heavy on the elderly.

You have never heard; you have never known;
For a long time your ears have not been open.
For I knew that you were very treacherous,
and were known as a rebel from birth.