Poor me! I feel like those who harvest summer fruit, or like those who pick grapes there are no clusters to eat or any fresh fruit that I want.

High is thy hand above thine adversaries, And all thine enemies are cut off.

And it hath come to pass in that day, An affirmation of Jehovah, I have cut off thy horses from thy midst, And I have destroyed thy chariots,

And I have cut off the cities of thy land, And I have thrown down all thy fortresses,

And have cut off sorcerers out of thy hand, And observers of clouds thou hast none.

And I have cut off thy graven images, And thy standing-pillars out of thy midst, And thou dost not bow thyself any more To the work of thy hands.

Make thee bald, and cut off thy hair for the sons of thy delight. Enlarge thy baldness as the vulture, for they have gone into captivity from thee.