The vine is withered, and the fig tree languishes. The pomegranate tree, the palm tree also, and the apple tree, even all the trees of the field are withered. For joy has withered away from the sons of men.

Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field: for the pastures of the wilderness do spring; for the tree beareth its fruit; the fig-tree and the vine yield full increase.

He hath made my vine a desolation, and barked my fig-tree; he hath made it clean bare, and cast it away: its branches are made white.

Be ashamed, ye husbandmen, Howl, vine-dressers, for wheat and for barley, For perished hath the harvest of the field.

Get your plough-blades hammered into swords, and your vine-knives into spears: let the feeble say, I am strong.