From the orchards are taken away joy and gladness, In the vineyards there is no singing, no shout of joy; In the wine presses no one treads grapes, the vintage shout is stilled.
Joy and gladness are taken away from the garden land, the land of Moab. I dry up the wine from the wine vats, the treader treads no more, the vintage shout is stilled.
The vine has dried up, the fig tree has withered; The pomegranate, even the date palm and the apple— every tree in the field has dried up. Joy itself has dried up among the people.
Therefore, because you tax the destitute and exact from them levies of grain, Though you have built houses of hewn stone, you shall not live in them; Though you have planted choice vineyards, you shall not drink their wine.
Yes, days are coming— oracle of the Lord— When the one who plows shall overtake the one who reaps and the vintager, the sower of the seed; The mountains shall drip with the juice of grapes, and all the hills shall run with it.
Their wealth shall be given to plunder and their houses to devastation; They will build houses, but not dwell in them; They will plant vineyards, but not drink their wine.
They went out into the fields, harvested the grapes from their vineyards, trod them out, and held a festival. Then they went to the temple of their god, where they ate and drank and cursed Abimelech.