My soul hates your New Moons and your appointed feasts. They are a burden to me. I am weary of bearing them.

The harp, lyre, tambourine, and flute, with wine, are at their feasts; but they don't respect the work of Yahweh, neither have they considered the operation of his hands.

Woe to Ariel! Ariel, the city where David encamped! Add year to year; let the feasts come around;