مِيخَا 7:1

وَيْلٌ لِي! لِأَنِّي صِرْتُ كَجَنَى ٱلصَّيْفِ، كَخُصَاصَةِ ٱلْقِطَافِ، لَا عُنْقُودَ لِلْأَكْلِ وَلَا بَاكُورَةَ تِينَةٍ ٱشْتَهَتْهَا نَفْسِي.

Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer fruits, as the grapegleanings of the vintage: there is no cluster to eat: my soul desired the firstripe fruit.