"But now they mock me,1 men younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.2
Of what use was the strength of their hands to me, since their vigor had gone from them?
Haggard from want and hunger, they roamed the parched land3 in desolate wastelands4 at night.5
In the brush they gathered salt herbs,6 and their food was the root of the broom tree.7
They were banished from their fellow men, shouted at as if they were thieves.
They were forced to live in the dry stream beds, among the rocks and in holes in the ground.8
They brayed9 among the bushes10 and huddled in the undergrowth.
A base and nameless brood,11 they were driven out of the land.12
"And now their sons mock me13 in song;14 I have become a byword15 among them.
They detest me16 and keep their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face.17
Now that God has unstrung my bow18 and afflicted me,19 they throw off restraint20 in my presence.
On my right21 the tribe attacks; they lay snares22 for my feet,23 they build their siege ramps against me.24
They break up my road;25 they succeed in destroying me26-- without anyone's helping them.
They advance as through a gaping breach;27 amid the ruins they come rolling in.