5 My heart cries out for Moab. Her fugitives are as far as Zoar as a three year old heifer, for by the ascent of Luhith they go up with weeping, for on the way of Horonaim they raise a cry of distress.
6 The waters of Nimrim are desolate. The grass is withered away, the new grass withers, there is nothing green.
7 Therefore the riches they had gotten and whatever they have stored, they carry over the Wadi of Willows.
8 For the cry has gone around the borders of Moab, the wailing to Eglaim, and the wailing to Beer-elim.
9 For the waters of Dimon are full of blood, but I will bring on Dimon even more— a lion for those escaping from Moab, and for those remaining in the land.