¹⁵ You trampled the sea with your horses,
    churning mighty waters.
¹⁶ I heard, and my body trembled.
    My lips quivered at the voice.
Rottenness enters into my bones, and I tremble in my place,
    because I must wait quietly for the day of trouble,
    for the coming up of the people who invade us.
¹⁷ For though the fig tree doesn’t flourish,
    nor fruit be in the vines;
    the labor of the olive fails,
    the fields yield no food;
    the flocks are cut off from the fold,
    and there is no herd in the stalls: