These people are blemishes at your love feasts, eating with you without the slightest qualm — shepherds who feed only themselves. They are clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn trees, without fruit and uprooted — twice dead.
These are [g]spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried [h]about by the winds; late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots;