Joy and delight have vanished from the orchards. No songs are sung. No shouts are raised. No one stomps on grapes in the winepresses, because I have put an end to the shouts of joy.
In a little less than a year you overconfident women will tremble, because the grape harvest will fail and no fruit will be brought in ⌞from the fields⌟.
Joy and gladness have disappeared from the orchards and fields of Moab. I will stop the wine flowing from the winepresses. No one will stomp on grapes with shouts of joy. There will be shouts, but not shouts of joy.
They don’t pray to me sincerely, even though they cry in their beds and make cuts on their bodies while praying for grain and new wine. They have turned against me.
The grapevines are dried up. The fig trees are withered. The pomegranate, palm, and apricot trees, as well as all the trees in the orchards, have died. Yes, the joy of these people has died too.
“Abraham replied, ‘Remember, my child, that you had a life filled with good times, while Lazarus’ life was filled with misery. Now he has peace here, while you suffer.