“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.
“Why is light given to those in misery, and life to the bitter of soul,
to those who long for death that does not come, who search for it more than for hidden treasure,
who are filled with gladness and rejoice when they reach the grave?
Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in?
For sighing has become my daily food; my groans pour out like water.
What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me.
I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”