I am disgusted with my life. I will express my complaint and speak in the bitterness of my soul.
I will say to God: Do not declare me guilty! Let me know why You prosecute me.
Is it good for You to oppress, to reject the work of Your hands, and favor the plans of the wicked?
Do You have eyes of flesh, or do You see as a human sees?
Are Your days like those of a human, or Your years like those of a man,
that You look for my wrongdoing and search for my sin,
even though You know that I am not wicked and that there is no one who can deliver from Your hand?
Your hands shaped me and formed me. Will You now turn around and destroy me?
Please remember that You formed me like clay. Will You now return me to dust?
Did You not pour me out like milk and curdle me like cheese?
You clothed me with skin and flesh, and wove me together with bones and tendons.
You gave me life and faithful love, and Your care has guarded my life.
Yet You concealed these [thoughts] in Your heart; I know that this was Your hidden plan:
if I sin, You would notice, and would not acquit me of my wrongdoing.
If I am wicked, woe to me! And even if I am righteous, I cannot lift up my head. I am filled with shame and aware of my affliction.
If I am proud, You hunt me like a lion and again display Your miraculous power against me.
You produce new witnesses against me and multiply Your anger toward me. Hardships assault me, wave after wave.
Why did You bring me out of the womb? I should have died and never been seen.
I wish I had never existed but had been carried from the womb to the grave.
Are my days not few? Stop [it]! Leave me alone, so that I can smile a little
before I go to a land of darkness and gloom, never to return.
[It is] a land of blackness like the deepest darkness, gloomy and chaotic, where even the light is like the darkness.