It’s true the wicked flourish, but only for a moment; they foolishly forget their destiny with death, that they will all one day be destroyed forevermore.
Human beings are frail and temporary, like grass, and the glory of man fleeting like blossoms of the field. The grass dries and withers and the flowers fall off,
The inhabitants were frightened and ashamed. They became as fragile as weeds and tender grass, as short-lived as the grass that grows on the rooftop and is scorched before the east wind.
Listen to them bragging among themselves, big in their own eyes, all because of the crimes they’ve committed against your people! See how they’re crushing those who love you, God, cruelly oppressing those who belong to you.