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Exact Match

Let the day perish in which I am born, And the night that hath said: 'A man-child hath been conceived.'

From the breath of God they perish, And from the spirit of His anger consumed.

From morning to evening are beaten down, Without any regarding, for ever they perish.

So are the paths of all forgetting God, And the hope of the profane doth perish,

As his own dung for ever he doth perish, His beholders say: 'Where is he?'