⁷ May they flow away like rain water that runs off,
    may they become like someone who shoots broken arrows.
⁸ May they be like a snail that dries up as it crawls;
    like a woman’s stillborn baby, who never saw the sun.
⁹ Before your clay pots are placed on a fire of burning^[a] thorns—
    whether green or ablaze—
        wrath will sweep them away like a storm.