In the day that you plant it you carefully fence it in, And in the morning you cause your seed to flourish; But the harvest will be a heap In a day of sickliness and incurable pain.
“Cut off the sower from Babylon And the one who seizes the sickle at the time of harvest; From before the sword of the oppressor They will each turn back to his own people, And they will each flee to his own land.
Who is the wise man that may understand this? And who is he to whom the mouth of Yahweh has spoken, that he may declare it? Why has the land perished, turned into ruin like a desert, so that no one passes through?
Therefore thus says Yahweh God of hosts, the Lord, “There is wailing in all the plazas, And in all the streets they say, ‘Alas! Alas!’ They also call the farmer to mourning And professional weepers to wailing.