This mob attacks me head-on; they send me running; they prepare their final assault.
They cut off my escape and try to destroy me; and there is no one to stop them.
They pour through the holes in my defenses and come crashing down on top of me;
I am overcome with terror; my dignity is gone like a puff of wind, and my prosperity like a cloud.
Now I am about to die; there is no relief for my suffering.
At night my bones all ache; the pain that gnaws me never stops.
God seizes me by my collar and twists my clothes out of shape.
He throws me down in the mud; I am no better than dirt.
I call to you, O God, but you never answer; and when I pray, you pay no attention.
You are treating me cruelly; you persecute me with all your power.
You let the wind blow me away; you toss me about in a raging storm.
I know you are taking me off to my death, to the fate in store for everyone.
Why do you attack a ruined man, one who can do nothing but beg for pity?
Didn't I weep with people in trouble and feel sorry for those in need?
I hoped for happiness and light, but trouble and darkness came instead.
I am torn apart by worry and pain; I have had day after day of suffering.
I go about in gloom, without any sunshine; I stand up in public and plead for help.
My voice is as sad and lonely as the cries of a jackal or an ostrich.
My skin has turned dark; I am burning with fever.
Where once I heard joyful music, now I hear only mourning and weeping.