When the sun rises, they steal away and settle down in their dens.
The wild beasts take to cover and remain quiet in their dens.
Your sentries are like locusts, and your scribes like locust swarms Gathered on the rubble fences on a cold day! Yet when the sun rises, they vanish, and no one knows where they have gone.
For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed.