9. Listen, you women who lie around in ease.Listen to me, you who are so smug.
10. In a short time—just a little more than a year—you careless ones will suddenly begin to care.For your fruit crops will fail,and the harvest will never take place.
11. Tremble, you women of ease;throw off your complacency.Strip off your pretty clothes,and put on burlap to show your grief.
12. Beat your breasts in sorrow for your bountiful farmsand your fruitful grapevines.