"But now they 1laugh at me, men who are 2younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
What could I gain from the strength of their hands, 3men whose 4vigor is gone?
Through want and hard hunger they 5gnaw 6the dry ground by night in 7waste and desolation;
they pick saltwort and the leaves of bushes, and the roots of the broom tree for their food.
8They are driven out from human company; they shout after them as after a thief.
In the gullies of the torrents they must dwell, in holes of the earth and of 9the rocks.
Among the bushes they 10bray; under 11the nettles they huddle together.
A senseless, a nameless brood, they have been whipped out of the land.
"And now I have become their 12song; I am 13a byword to them.
They 14abhor me; they keep aloof from me; they do not hesitate to 15spit at the sight of me.
Because God has loosed my cord and humbled me, they have cast off restraint in my presence.
On my 16right hand the rabble rise; they push away my feet; they 17cast up against me their ways of destruction.
They break up my path; they promote my 18calamity; they need no one to help them.
As through a wide 19breach they come; amid the crash they roll on.
20Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is pursued as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed away like 21a cloud.
"And now my soul is 22poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold of me.
23The night 24racks my bones, and the pain that 25gnaws me takes no rest.
With great force my garment is 26disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic.
God has cast me into the mire, and I have become like 27dust and ashes.
I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me.
You have 28turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you 29persecute me.
30You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
31For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for 32all living.
"Yet does not one in a 33heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help?
Did not I 34weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
But 35when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, 36darkness came.
My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction 37come to meet me.
I 38go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in 39the assembly and cry for help.
I am a brother of 40jackals and a companion of 41ostriches.
My 42skin turns black and falls from me, and my 43bones burn with heat.
My 44lyre is 45turned to mourning, and my 46pipe to the voice of those who weep.