But they will swoop down
on the Philistine flank to the west.
Together they will plunder the people of the east.
They will extend their power over Edom and Moab,
and the Ammonites will be their subjects.

An oracle against Moab:

Ar in Moab is devastated,
destroyed in a night.
Kir in Moab is devastated,
destroyed in a night.

Dibon went up to its temple
to weep at its high places.
Moab wails on Nebo and at Medeba.
Every head is shaved;
every beard is cut off.

Heshbon and Elealeh cry out;
their voices are heard as far away as Jahaz.
Therefore the soldiers of Moab cry out,
and they tremble.

My heart cries out over Moab,
whose fugitives flee as far as Zoar,
to Eglath-shelishiyah;
they go up the slope of Luhith weeping;
they raise a cry of destruction
on the road to Horonaim.

For their cry echoes
throughout the territory of Moab.
Their wailing reaches Eglaim;
their wailing reaches Beer-elim.

The waters of Dibon are full of blood,
but I will bring on Dibon even more than this—
a lion for those who escape from Moab,
and for the survivors in the land.

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Like a bird fleeing,
forced from the nest,
the daughters of Moab
will be at the fords of the Arnon.

Let my refugees stay with you;
be a refuge for Moab from the aggressor.

When the oppressor has gone,
destruction has ended,
and marauders have vanished from the land.

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

Therefore let Moab wail;
let every one of them wail for Moab.
Mourn, you who are completely devastated,
for the raisin cakes of Kir-hareseth.

Therefore I moan like the sound of a lyre for Moab,
as does my innermost being for Kir-heres.

When Moab appears on the high place,
when he tires himself out
and comes to his sanctuary to pray,
it will do him no good.

This is the message that the Lord previously announced about Moab.

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.”

For the Lord’s power will rest on this mountain.

But Moab will be trampled in his place
as straw is trampled in a dung pile.

I chirp like a swallow or a crane;
I moan like a dove.
My eyes grow weak looking upward.
Lord, I am oppressed; support me.

We all growl like bears
and moan like doves.
We hope for justice, but there is none;
for salvation, but it is far from us.