I was in comfort, but I have been broken up by his hands; he has taken me by the neck, shaking me to bits; he has put me up as a mark for his arrows.
His bowmen come round about me; their arrows go through my body without mercy; my life is drained out on the earth.
I am broken with wound after wound; he comes rushing on me like a man of war.
I have made haircloth the clothing of my skin, and my horn is rolled in the dust.
My face is red with weeping, and my eyes are becoming dark;
Though my hands have done no violent acts, and my prayer is clean.
O earth, let not my blood be covered, and let my cry have no resting-place!
Even now my witness is in heaven, and the supporter of my cause is on high.
My friends make sport of me; to God my eyes are weeping,
So that he may give decision for a man in his cause with God, and between a son of man and his neighbour.
For in a short time I will take the journey from which I will not come back.