Although he flourishes among his brothers, , an east wind will come, a wind from the Lord rising up from the desert. His water source will fail, and his spring will run dry. The wind will plunder the treasury of every precious item.
Ephraim is struck down; their roots are withered; they cannot bear fruit. Even if they bear children, I will kill the precious offspring of their wombs.
Indeed, they sow the wind and reap the whirlwind. There is no standing corn; what sprouts fails to yield flour. Even if it did, foreigners would swallow it up.
Their inhabitants have become powerless, dismayed, and ashamed. They are plants of the field, tender grass, grass on the rooftops, blasted by the east wind.