He bursts upon me again and again; he rushes at me like a warrior.
I have sewed sackcloth upon my skin, and have laid my strength in the dust.
My face is red with weeping, and deep darkness is on my eyelids,
though there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure.
"O earth, do not cover my blood; let my outcry find no resting place.
Even now, in fact, my witness is in heaven, and he that vouches for me is on high.
My friends scorn me; my eye pours out tears to God,
that he would maintain the right of a mortal with God, as one does for a neighbor.
For when a few years have come, I shall go the way from which I shall not return.