Like grapes in the desert, I found Israel; Like the first fruits of the fig tree, its first to ripen, I looked on your ancestors. But when they came to Baal-peor and consecrated themselves to the Shameful One, they became as abhorrent as the thing they loved.
The fading blooms of his glorious beauty at the head of the fertile valley Will be like an early fig before summer: whoever sees it, swallows it as soon as it is in hand.
Only gleanings shall be left in it, as when an olive tree has been beaten— Two or three olives at the very top, four or five on its most fruitful branches— oracle of the Lord, the God of Israel.
Yes, I hear the cry, like that of a woman in labor, like the anguish of a mother bearing her first child— The cry of daughter Zion gasping, as she stretches out her hands: “Ah, woe is me! I sink exhausted before my killers!”
From the end of the earth we hear songs: “Splendor to the Just One!” But I said, “I am wasted, wasted away. Woe is me! The traitors betray; with treachery have the traitors betrayed!
Then I said, “Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
Roam the streets of Jerusalem, look about and observe, Search through her squares, to find even one Who acts justly and seeks honesty, and I will pardon her!