The fading flower of his glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fertile valley, shall be like the first-ripe fig before the summer; which someone picks and eats as soon as he sees it.
Woe to the crown of pride of the drunkards of Efrayim, and to the fading flower of his glorious beauty, which is on the head of the fertile valley of those who are overcome with wine!
For before the child knows how to say, 'My father,' and, 'My mother,' the riches of Damascus and the spoil of Shomron will be carried away by the king of Ashur.*
Though he is fruitful among his brothers, an east wind will come, the breath of the LORD coming up from the wilderness; and his spring will become dry, and his fountain will be dried up. He will plunder the storehouse of treasure.
Misery is mine! Indeed, I am like one who gathers the summer fruits, as gleanings of the vineyard: There is no cluster of grapes to eat. My soul desires to eat the early fig.