Make melody to the Lord, give praise to the Lord: for he has made the soul of the poor man free from the hands of the evil-doers.
A curse on the day of my birth: let there be no blessing on the day when my mother had me.
A curse on the man who gave the news to my father, saying, You have a male child; making him very glad.
May that man be like the towns overturned by the Lord without mercy: let a cry for help come to his ears in the morning, and the sound of war in the middle of the day;
Because he did not put me to death before my birth took place: so my mother's body would have been my last resting-place, and she would have been with child for ever.
Why did I come from my mother's body to see pain and sorrow, so that my days might be wasted with shame?