Just as apple tree dey among oda trees for forest, na so my love bi among di yong men. I dey like sidan for where e dey and en fruit dey sweet mi to chop.
Nobody get joy or dey happy and inside di vineyard; nobody dey dance or shaut; no grape even dey to press to make wine, bikos I don end dia shaut for joy.
Yu don make di pipol plenty kon give dem great joy. Dem dey happy for yor present, just as doz wey dey harvest wetin dem plant dey happy or as sojas dey celebrate wen dem divide wetin dem karry kom from war.
Di happiness and joy wey dey Moab land, don vanish. I don make dia wine stop to flow from di winepress. Nobody dey to make wine for dem and una nor go hear happiness nois from der again.
Wen dem rish Eshkol Valley, dem kon kut one branches wey grape full and two men karry am with stik. Dem still take some pomegranate fruit and fig follow body.