How sad for me! For I am like one who – when the summer fruit has been gathered after the gleaning of the grape harvest – finds no grape cluster to eat, no early fig, which I crave.
I discovered Israel like grapes in the wilderness. I saw your ancestors like the first fruit of the fig tree in its first season. But they went to Baal-peor, consecrated themselves to Shame, , and became abhorrent, like the thing they loved.
The fading flower of his beautiful splendour, which is on the summit above the rich valley, will be like a ripe fig before the summer harvest. Whoever sees it will swallow it while it is still in his hand.
Only gleanings will be left in Israel, as if an olive tree had been beaten – two or three olives at the very top of the tree, four or five on its fruitful branches. This is the declaration of the Lord, the God of Israel.
Woe is me, my mother, that you gave birth to me, a man who incites dispute and conflict in all the land. I did not lend or borrow, yet everyone curses me.
I hear a cry like a woman in labour, a cry of anguish like one bearing her first child. The cry of Daughter Zion gasping for breath, stretching out her hands: ‘Woe is me, for my life is weary because of the murderers! ’
From the ends of the earth we hear songs: The Splendour of the Righteous One. But I said, ‘I waste away! I waste away! Woe is me.’ The treacherous act treacherously; the treacherous deal very treacherously.
Then I said: Woe is me, for I am ruined, because I am a man of unclean lips and live among a people of unclean lips, and because my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Armies.
Roam through the streets of Jerusalem. Investigate; search in her squares. If you find one person, any who acts justly, who pursues faithfulness, then I will forgive her.