My days are coming to an end, ¹  and I am withered like grass.

All the stars in the sky will fade away, ¹  the sky will roll up like a scroll; all its stars will wither, like a leaf withers and falls from a vine or a fig withers and falls from a tree. ² 

“Does a wise man answer with blustery knowledge, ¹  or fill his belly ²  with the east wind? ³ 

Have mercy on me, for I am in distress! My eyes grow dim ¹  from suffering. ²  I have lost my strength. ³ 

I will make the trees on the mountains and hills wither up; ¹  I will dry up all their vegetation. I will turn streams into islands, ²  and dry up pools of water. ³ 

The splendid crown of Ephraim’s drunkards is doomed, ¹  the withering flower, its beautiful splendor, ²  situated ³  at the head of a rich valley, the crown of those overcome with wine. ⁴ 

The withering flower, its beautiful splendor, situated at the head of a rich valley, will be like an early fig before harvest – as soon as someone notices it, he grabs it and swallows it. ¹ 

Moreover, I have called for a drought that will affect the fields, the hill country, the grain, new wine, fresh olive oil, and everything that grows from the ground; it also will harm people, animals, and everything they produce.’” ¹