If he is destroyed from his place, then it shall deny him: ‘I have not seen you.’
he perishes forever like his own dung. Those who have seen him say, ‘Where is he?’
Eyes that saw him do so no more, nor does his place see him any more.
He returns no more to his house, nor does his place know him any more.
The eye of him who sees me sees me no longer. Your eyes are upon me, and I am no more.
His roots wrap around a heap, and look for a place in the stones.
For the wind blows over it, and it is no more, And its place no longer remembers it.
Yet a little while and the wrong is no more; And you shall look on his place, But it is not.
Yet he passed away, and see, he was not; And I sought him, but he was not found.
When the wrong spring up like grass, And all the workers of wickedness blossom, It is for them to be destroyed forever.