Their people, powerless, are terrified and humiliated. They're like plants in a field, like soft green shoots, like grass that sprouts on rooftop—scorched before it can even grow.
Even though they flourish among the reeds, an east wind will come, a wind from the Lord that rises in the desert will dry up their springs and their wells will fail. It will rob from their treasury everything of value.
Those who sow the wind will reap the whirlwind. The stalk has no head of grain; it will produce no flour. Even if it did produce grain, foreigners would swallow it all up.