On all roofs of Moab, and in her broad-places, All of it — [is] lamentation, For I have broken Moab as a vessel in which there is no pleasure, An affirmation of Jehovah.
And He hath broken it As the breaking of the potters' bottle, Beaten down — He doth not spare, Nor is there found, in its beating down, A potsherd to take fire from the burning, And to draw out waters from a ditch.
and hast said unto them: Thus said Jehovah of Hosts, Thus do I break this people and this city, as one breaketh the potter's vessel, that is not able to be repaired again, and in Tophet they bury — without place to bury;
A grief — a despised broken thing — is this man Coniah? A vessel in which there is no pleasure? Wherefore have they been cast up and down, He and his seed, Yea, they were cast on to a land that they knew not?
Howl, ye shepherds, and cry, And roll yourselves, ye honourable of the flock, For full have been your days, For slaughtering, and [for] your scatterings, And ye have fallen as a desirable vessel.