All your fortresses are like fig trees with first-ripe figs— if shaken they fall into the mouth of the eater.
and the stars of the sky fell to the earth as the fig tree sheds its winter fruit when shaken by a gale.
At kings they scoff, and at rulers they laugh. They laugh at every fortress, for they pile up earth and take it.
and the fading flower of its glorious beauty, which is on the head of the rich valley, will be like a first-ripe fig before the summer: when someone sees it, he swallows it as soon as it is in his hand.
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