God asked me what I was listening to.
And I said, “A sound of weeping, and I hear the sound of strokes, but I cannot tell whence it comes.”
God said, “It is the echo of the wine-press lingering still among the coping-stones upon the mounds. A banquet-house stood here.”
And he called me to come further.
Upon a barren hill-side, where the soil was arid, God called me to stand still. And I looked around.
God said, “There was a feasting-house here once upon a time.”
I said to God, “I see no mark of any!”
God said, “There was not left one stone upon another that has not been thrown down.” And I looked round; and on the hill-side was a lonely grave.
I said to God, “What lies there?”
He said, “A vine truss, bruised in the wine-press!”