Hear this, you leaders of the people. Listen, all who live in the land. In all your history, has anything like this happened before?
Tell your children about it in the years to come, and let your children tell their children. Pass the story down from generation to generation.
After the cutting locusts finished eating the crops, the swarming locusts took what was left! After them came the hopping locusts, and then the stripping locusts, too!
Wake up, you drunkards, and weep! Wail, all you wine-drinkers! All the grapes are ruined, and all your sweet wine is gone.
A vast army of locusts has invaded my land, a terrible army too numerous to count. Its teeth are like lions’ teeth, its fangs like those of a lioness.
It has destroyed my grapevines and ruined my fig trees, stripping their bark and destroying it, leaving the branches white and bare.
Weep like a bride dressed in black, mourning the death of her husband.
For there is no grain or wine to offer at the Temple of the . So the priests are in mourning. The ministers of the are weeping.
The fields are ruined, the land is stripped bare. The grain is destroyed, the grapes have shriveled, and the olive oil is gone.
Despair, all you farmers! Wail, all you vine growers! Weep, because the wheat and barley— all the crops of the field—are ruined.
The grapevines have dried up, and the fig trees have withered. The pomegranate trees, palm trees, and apple trees— all the fruit trees—have dried up. And the people’s joy has dried up with them.
Dress yourselves in burlap and weep, you priests! Wail, you who serve before the altar! Come, spend the night in burlap, you ministers of my God. For there is no grain or wine to offer at the Temple of your God.
Announce a time of fasting; call the people together for a solemn meeting. Bring the leaders and all the people of the land into the Temple of the your God, and cry out to him there.