Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer fruits, as the grape gleanings of the vintage: there is no cluster to eat; my soul desireth the first-ripe fig.

Woe is me! For I am like one gathering summer fruit at the gleaning of the vineyard; there is no cluster to eat, no early fig that I crave.

My woe is to me, for I have been As gatherings of summer-fruit, As gleanings of harvest, There is no cluster to eat, The first-ripe fruit desired hath my soul.

Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer-fruits, as the grape-gleanings of the vintage. There is no cluster to eat; there is no early fruit [which] my soul desired.