May its morning stars become dark; may it wait for daylight in vain and not see the first rays of dawn,
for it did not shut the doors of the womb on me to hide trouble from my eyes.
“Why did I not perish at birth, and die as I came from the womb?
Why were there knees to receive me and breasts that I might be nursed?
For now I would be lying down in peace; I would be asleep and at rest
with kings and rulers of the earth, who built for themselves places now lying in ruins,
with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver.
Or why was I not hidden away in the ground like a stillborn child, like an infant who never saw the light of day?
There the wicked cease from turmoil, and there the weary are at rest.
Captives also enjoy their ease; they no longer hear the slave driver’s shout.
The small and the great are there, and the slaves are freed from their owners.