1
"Does not man have hard service1 on earth?2 Are not his days like those of a hired man?32
Like a slave longing for the evening shadows,4 or a hired man waiting eagerly for his wages,53
so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me.64
When I lie down I think, 'How long before I get up?'7 The night drags on, and I toss till dawn.85
My body is clothed with worms9 and scabs, my skin is broken and festering.106
"My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle,11 and they come to an end without hope.12
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