Even the hind in the field forsakes her newborn calf because there is no grass.
Naphtali is a hind let loose, that bears comely fawns.
The voice of the Lord makes the oaks to whirl, and strips the forests bare; and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”
the waters of Nimrim are a desolation; the grass is withered, the new growth fails, the verdure is no more.
How the beasts groan! The herds of cattle are perplexed because there is no pasture for them; even the flocks of sheep are dismayed.