Ruined is the vineyard,
The land that bore fruits
Yes! My homeland
Barren it is today!

Mourning since morning,
It is almost noon
No joy coming
The tools are down

The ground is laughing
Nevertheless, no voice is heard
Loud , the farmers are crying
No harvest! No figs to cut
All dried up !

Woe to the farmers
Who knew not the season
It was summer
Had they knew the precaution,
It's now over
It is over dear farmers