Isaiah 24:7–12

The wine mourns,

the vine languishes,

all the merry-hearted sigh.

The mirth of the tambourines is stilled,

the noise of the jubilant has ceased,

the mirth of the lyre is stilled.

No more do they drink wine with singing;

strong drink is bitter to those who drink it.

The wasted city is broken down;

every house is shut up so that none can enter.

There is an outcry in the streets for lack of wine;

all joy has grown dark;

the gladness of the earth is banished.

Desolation is left in the city;

the gates are battered into ruins.

The new wine dries up and the vine withers;

all the merrymakers groan.

The joyful timbrels are stilled,

the noise of the revelers has stopped,

the joyful harp is silent.

No longer do they drink wine with a song;

the beer is bitter to its drinkers.

The ruined city lies desolate;

the entrance to every house is barred.

In the streets they cry out for wine;

all joy turns to gloom,

all joyful sounds are banished from the earth.

The city is left in ruins,

its gate is battered to pieces.

The new wine mourns;

the vine withers.

All the carousers now groan.

The joyful tambourines have ceased.

The noise of the jubilant has stopped.

The joyful lyre has ceased.

They no longer sing and drink wine;

beer is bitter to those who drink it.

The city of chaos is shattered;

every house is closed to entry.

In the streets they cry for wine.

All joy grows dark;

earth’s rejoicing goes into exile.

Only desolation remains in the city;

its gate has collapsed in ruins.

The grapevines waste away,

and there is no new wine.

All the merrymakers sigh and mourn.

The cheerful sound of tambourines is stilled;

the happy cries of celebration are heard no more.

The melodious chords of the harp are silent.

Gone are the joys of wine and song;

alcoholic drink turns bitter in the mouth.

The city writhes in chaos;

every home is locked to keep out intruders.

Mobs gather in the streets, crying out for wine.

Joy has turned to gloom.

Gladness has been banished from the land.

The city is left in ruins,

its gates battered down.

The new wine dries up;

the vine languishes.

All the merry of heart sigh;

the joy of the tambourine has stopped.

The noise of the jubilant has ceased;

the joy of the lyre has stopped.

They do not drink wine with song;

strong drink is bitter to those who drink it.

The city of emptiness is broken;

every house is shut so that no one can enter;

there is an outcry over the wine in the streets.

All joy turns into darkness;

the joy of the earth disappears.

Desolation is left in the city;

the gate is crushed into a state of ruin.

The new wine mourneth, the vine languisheth,

All the merryhearted do sigh.

The mirth of tabrets ceaseth, the noise of them that rejoice endeth,

The joy of the harp ceaseth.

They shall not drink wine with a song;

Strong drink shall be bitter to them that drink it.

The city of confusion is broken down:

Every house is shut up, that no man may come in.

There is a crying for wine in the streets;

All joy is darkened,

The mirth of the land is gone.

In the city is left desolation,

And the gate is smitten with destruction.