For he breaks me with a storm, and multiplies my wounds without cause.

How often is it that they are as stubble before the wind, as chaff that the storm carries away?

Terrors overtake him like waters. A storm steals him away in the night.

You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.

Its noise tells about him, and the livestock also concerning the storm that comes up.

Out of its chamber comes the storm, and cold out of the north.