1 “Do not mortals have hard service on earth? Are not their days like those of hired laborers?
2 Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired laborer waiting to be paid,
3 so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
4 When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’ The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.
5 My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering.
6 “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
7 Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; my eyes will never see happiness again.
8 The eye that now sees me will see me no longer; you will look for me, but I will be no more.
9 As a cloud vanishes and is gone, so one who goes down to the grave does not return.
10 He will never come to his house again; his place will know him no more.
11 “Therefore I will not keep silent; I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.