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.
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.
Is there still seed in the storehouse? Have the vine, the fig, the pomegranate, and the olive tree still not borne fruit? From this day, I will bless you. Future Hope.
They also reached the Wadi Eshcol, where they cut down a branch with a single cluster of grapes on it, which two of them carried on a pole, as well as some pomegranates and figs.