This message came to me concerning Moab: In one night the town of Ar will be leveled, and the city of Kir will be destroyed.
Your people will go to their temple in Dibon to mourn. They will go to their sacred shrines to weep. They will wail for the fate of Nebo and Medeba, shaving their heads in sorrow and cutting off their beards.
They will wear burlap as they wander the streets. From every home and public square will come the sound of wailing.
The people of Heshbon and Elealeh will cry out; their voices will be heard as far away as Jahaz! The bravest warriors of Moab will cry out in utter terror. They will be helpless with fear.
My heart weeps for Moab. Its people flee to Zoar and Eglath-shelishiyah. Weeping, they climb the road to Luhith. Their cries of distress can be heard all along the road to Horonaim.
Even the waters of Nimrim are dried up! The grassy banks are scorched. The tender plants are gone; nothing green remains.
The people grab their possessions and carry them across the Ravine of Willows.
A cry of distress echoes through the land of Moab from one end to the other— from Eglaim to Beer-elim.
The stream near Dibon runs red with blood, but I am still not finished with Dibon! Lions will hunt down the survivors— both those who try to escape and those who remain behind.