They will never come back to their houses again, and their places will not know them anymore.
But now that the baby is dead, why should I fast? I can’t bring him back to life. Someday I will go to him, but he cannot come back to me.”
but they will be gone forever, like their own dung. People who knew them will say, ‘Where are they?’
Those who saw them will not see them again; the places where they lived will see them no more.
The east wind will carry them away, and then they are gone, because it sweeps them out of their place.
It will be as if the wind is clapping its hands; it will whistle at them as they run from their place.
But if a plant is torn from its place, then that place rejects it and says, ‘I never saw you.’
After the wind blows, the flower is gone, and there is no sign of where it was.
In a little while the wicked will be no more. You may look for them, but they will be gone.