Start swinging the sickle, for the harvest is ripe. Come and tread the grapes for the winepress is full and the vats are overflowing because their wickedness has become so great.
It will look as empty as fields after reapers have harvested the grain, gathering up the grain in their arms. It will be like when people pick the heads of grain in the Valley of Rephaim.
I've been treading the winepress by myself; from the nations around no one came to help me. So in my anger I trod them down as if they were grapes, in my fury I trampled them. It's their blood that has stained my clothes.
This is what the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel, says: The people of Babylon are like a threshing floor when the grain is trampled out. Her time of harvest will come very soon.
The Lord brushed aside all my strong soldiers defending me. He called up an army to attack me, to crush my young men. The Lord has trampled down the virgin Daughter of Judah like grapes in a winepress.
I looked and I saw a white cloud. Sitting on the cloud was someone that looked like the Son of man, wearing a golden crown on his head and holding a sharp sickle in his hand.
From his mouth came a sharp sword to strike the nations. He will rule them with an iron rod, and he himself treads the winepress of the All-powerful God's judgment.