The land mourns and languishes. Lebanon is disgraced and withered. The fields of Sharon are like a desert. The lands of Bashan and Carmel are stripped bare.
How much longer will the land mourn? How much longer must the birds and animals perish? Even the grass of every field withers because of the wickedness of these people! For the people boast, “God doesn’t see what happens to us.”
We have all become contaminated with sin, and you see our self-righteousness as nothing better than a menstrual rag. We are all like fallen leaves, and our sins sweep us away like the wind.
Woe to the pride of Israel’s drunkards, worn like a garland on their heads! Their glory is but wilted flowers, worn like a crown on the heads of those bloated with rich food and overcome by wine.
The empty roads to Zion mourn, for no one travels to her sacred feasts anymore. The singing maidens suffer, and the priests can only groan. The city gates stand empty, and Zion can only moan.