My heart crieth out for Moab; her fugitives reach unto Zoar, a heifer of three years old; for by the ascent of Luhith with weeping they go up; for in the way of Horonaim they raise up a cry of destruction.
For the Waters of Nimrim shall be desolate; for the grass is withered away, the herbage faileth, there is no green thing.
Therefore the abundance they have gotten, and that which they have laid up, shall they carry away to the brook of the willows.
For the cry is gone round about the borders of Moab; the howling thereof unto Eglaim, and the howling thereof unto Beer-elim.
For the waters of Dimon are full of blood; for I will bring yet more upon Dimon, a lion upon him that escapeth of Moab, and upon the remnant of the land.