From the purple cloth—and the marble that decays and crumbles on them—you will know they aren’t gods. Later they themselves will be devoured, and it will be a disgrace in the land.
In the same way, their gods of wood, overlaid with gold and silver, are like a thornbush in a garden on which every bird perches; or like a corpse thrown out in the darkness.
From the purple and linen that rot upon them you will know that they are not gods, and they will finally be consumed themselves and be a reproach in the land.
In the same way, their gods of wood, overlaid with gold and silver, are like a thorn bush in a garden, on which every bird sits; or like a dead body cast out in the darkness.
In the same manner and a whitethorn in a garden [or in a yard] keepeth nothing, on which thorn each bird sitteth, (and) in like manner and their gods of tree (or of wood), and of gold, and of silver, be like [to] a dead man cast forth in(to) (the) darknesses.