An oracle concerning Moab. Because Ar is laid waste in a night, Moab is undone; because Kir is laid waste in a night, Moab is undone.
Dibon has gone up to the temple, to the high places to weep; over Nebo and over Medeba Moab wails. On every head is baldness, every beard is shorn;
in the streets they bind on sackcloth; on the housetops and in the squares everyone wails and melts in tears.
Heshbon and Elealeh cry out, their voices are heard as far as Jahaz; therefore the loins of Moab quiver; his soul trembles.
My heart cries out for Moab; his fugitives flee to Zoar, to Eglath-shelishiyah. For at the ascent of Luhith they go up weeping; on the road to Horonaim they raise a cry of destruction;
the waters of Nimrim are a desolation; the grass is withered, the new growth fails, the verdure is no more.
Therefore the abundance they have gained and what they have laid up they carry away over the Wadi of the Willows.
For a cry has gone around the land of Moab; the wailing reaches to Eglaim, the wailing reaches to Beer-elim.
For the waters of Dibon are full of blood; yet I will bring upon Dibon even more— a lion for those of Moab who escape, for the remnant of the land.