I loathe my life; I will let loose my complaint; I will speak out of my own bitterness.
I will say to God, Don't declare me guilty; tell me what you are accusing me of doing.
Does it seem good to you that you oppress me, that you reject the work of your hands and cause the purpose of sinners to shine?
Do you have physical eyes; do you see like a human?
Are your days like those of a human, your years like years of a human,
that you search for my wrongdoing and seek my sin?
You know that I'm not guilty, yet no one delivers me from your power.
Your hands fashioned and made me; yet you want to destroy me utterly.
Remember that you made me from clay, and you will return me to dust.
Didn't you pour me out like milk, curdle me like cheese?
You clothed me with skin and flesh, wove me from bones and sinews.
Life and kindness you gave me, and you oversaw and preserved my breath.
These things you hid in your heart; I know this is the case with you.
If I sin and you observe me, you won't consider me innocent of wrongdoing.
If I were guilty, doom to me; I'm innocent, but can't lift my head, full of shame and facing my misery.
I could boast like a lion, and you would hunt me; you would do awesome things to me again.
You continue to send your witnesses against me and increase your anger toward me, a swift army against me.
Why did you let me emerge from the womb? I wish I had died without any eye seeing me.
Then I would be just as if I hadn't existed, taken from the belly to the grave.
Aren't my few days coming to an end? Look away from me so I can brighten up a little
before I go and don't return to a land of deepest darkness,
a land whose light is like gloom, utter darkness and confusion, such that light shines like gloom.