He has laid my vine waste, and barked my fig tree. He has made it clean bare, and cast it away. The branches of it are made white.

The field is laid waste; the land mourns. For the grain is destroyed, the new wine is dried up, the oil languishes.

Gird yourselves [with sackcloth], and lament, ye priests. Wail, ye ministers of the altar. Come, lay all night in sackcloth, ye ministers of my God. For the meal-offering and the drink-offering are withheld from the house of your G

The seeds rot under their clods. The garners are laid desolate. The barns are broken down. For the grain is withered.