And gladness is taken away, and joy out of the plentiful field; and in the vineyards there shall be no singing, neither shall there be shouting: the treaders shall tread out no wine in their presses; I have made their vintage shouting to cease.
Joy disappears from the abundant fields, and there's no more singing or shouting in the vineyards. Grape crushers won't make wine anymore, as I've stopped the festive celebrations.