All thy fortresses [are] fig-trees with first-fruits, If they are shaken, They have fallen into the mouth of the eater.
And the fading flower of the beauty of his glory That [is] on the head of the fat valley, Hath been as its first-fruit before summer, That its beholder seeth, While it [is] yet in his hand he swalloweth it.
In the one basket [are] figs very good, like the first-ripe figs, and in the other basket [are] figs very bad, that are not eaten for badness.
And at kings it doth scoff, And princes [are] a laughter to it, At every fenced place it doth laugh, And it heapeth up dust, and captureth it.
and the stars of the heaven fell to the earth — as a fig-tree doth cast her winter figs, by a great wind being shaken —