Cry for the land of my people, in which only thorns and weeds now grow. Cry for the city that once was happy and for all the houses that once were filled with joy.
In this land there are now vineyards that have a thousand grapevines, which are worth about twenty-five pounds of silver. But these fields will become full of weeds and thorns.
Joy and happiness are gone from the large, rich fields of Moab. I have stopped the flow of wine from the winepresses. No one walks on the grapes with shouts of joy. There are shouts, but not shouts of joy.
Though we planted fig seeds, they lie dry and dead in the dirt. The barns are empty and falling down. The storerooms for grain have been broken down, because the grain has dried up.
There will be very little bread to eat; ten women will be able to cook all your bread in one oven. They will measure each piece of bread, and you will eat, but you will still be hungry.
“ ‘If a person gives some family property to the Lord, the value of the fields will depend on how much seed is needed to plant them. It will cost about one and one-fourth pounds of silver for each six bushels of barley seed needed.
You have planted much, but you harvest little. You eat, but you do not become full. You drink, but you are still thirsty. You put on clothes, but you are not warm enough. You earn money, but then you lose it all as if you had put it into a purse full of holes.”
A person used to come to a pile of grain expecting to find twenty basketfuls, but there were only ten. And a person used to come to the wine vat to take out fifty jarfuls, but only twenty were there.