His eyes are darker than wine, and his teeth are whiter than milk.
He ties his foal to a grapevine, the colt of his donkey to a choice vine. He washes his clothes in wine, his robes in the blood of grapes.
“Zebulun will settle by the seashore and will be a harbor for ships; his borders will extend to Sidon.
Who has anguish? Who has sorrow? Who is always fighting? Who is always complaining? Who has unnecessary bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes?