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From Heshbon and Elealeh,
    weeping is heard in Jahaz;
Moab's warriors scream
    while trembling with fear.

Pity Moab

I pity Moab!
Its people are running to Zoar
    and to Eglath-Shelishiyah.
They cry on their way up
    to the town of Luhith;
on the road to Horonaim
    they tell of disasters.
The streams of Nimrim
and the grasslands
    have dried up.
Every plant is parched.

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