Though the fig-tree doth not flourish, And there is no produce among vines, Failed hath the work of the olive, And fields have not yielded food, Cut off from the fold hath been the flock, And there is no herd in the stalls.
And I proclaim draught on the land, And on the mountains, and on the corn, And on the new wine, and on the oil, And on what the ground doth bring forth, And on man, and on beast, And on all labour of the hands.'