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Joy collapses in the ruined city
The new wine mourns, the vine languishes, all the merry-hearted do sigh.
The mirth of tambourines ceases, the noise of those who rejoice ends, the joy of the harp ceases.
They shall not drink wine with a song; strong drink shall be bitter to those who drink it.
The waste city is broken down; every house is shut up, that no man may come in.
There is a crying in the streets because of the wine; all joy is darkened, the mirth of the land is gone.
In the city is left desolation, and the gate is struck with destruction.