Biblia Todo Logo
Bíobla ar líne
- Fógraí -





Isaiah 32:12 - Revised Standard Version

12 Beat upon your breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine,

Féach an chaibidil Cóip


Tuilleadh leaganacha

King James Version (Oxford) 1769

12 They shall lament for the teats, for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine.

Féach an chaibidil Cóip

Amplified Bible - Classic Edition

12 They shall beat upon their breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine,

Féach an chaibidil Cóip

American Standard Version (1901)

12 They shall smite upon the breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine.

Féach an chaibidil Cóip

Common English Bible

12 beating your breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine,

Féach an chaibidil Cóip

Catholic Public Domain Version

12 Mourn over your breasts, over the delightful country, over the fruitful vineyard.

Féach an chaibidil Cóip

Douay-Rheims version of The Bible - 1752 version

12 Mourn for your breasts, for the delightful country, for the fruitful vineyard.

Féach an chaibidil Cóip




Isaiah 32:12
11 Tagairtí Cros  

Behold, the Lord will lay waste the earth and make it desolate, and he will twist its surface and scatter its inhabitants.


The wine mourns, the vine languishes, all the merry-hearted sigh.


for the soil of my people growing up in thorns and briers; yea, for all the joyous houses in the joyful city.


My eyes are spent with weeping; my soul is in tumult; my heart is poured out in grief because of the destruction of the daughter of my people, because infants and babes faint in the streets of the city.


Moreover I swore to them in the wilderness that I would not bring them into the land which I had given them, a land flowing with milk and honey, the most glorious of all lands,


On that day I swore to them that I would bring them out of the land of Egypt into a land that I had searched out for them, a land flowing with milk and honey, the most glorious of all lands.


It has laid waste my vines, and splintered my fig trees; it has stripped off their bark and thrown it down; their branches are made white.


its mistress is stripped, she is carried off, her maidens lamenting, moaning like doves, and beating their breasts.


Lean orainn:

Fógraí


Fógraí