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¹ But now those that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.² Yes, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age has perished.³ They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the desert, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.⁴ They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.⁵ They are driven forth from the midst [of men]; They cry after them as after a thief;⁶ So that they dwell in frightful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks.⁷ Among the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together.⁸ [They are] sons of fools, yes, sons of base men; They were scourged out of the land.⁹ And now I have become their song, Yes, I am a byword to them.¹⁰ They are disgusted by me, they stand aloof from me, And do not spare to spit in my face.¹¹ For he has loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.¹² On my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.¹³ They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, [Even] men that have no helper.¹⁴ As through a wide breach they come: In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves [on me].

¹⁵ Terrors are turned on me; They chase my honor as the wind; And my welfare has passed away as a cloud.¹⁶ And now my soul is poured out inside me; Days of affliction have taken hold on me.¹⁷ In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the [pains] that gnaw me take no rest.¹⁸ By [God's] great force is my garment disfigured; It binds me about as the collar of my coat.¹⁹ He has cast me into the mire, And I have become like dust and ashes.²⁰ I cry to you, and you do not answer me: I stand up, and you gaze at me.²¹ You have turned to be cruel to me; With the might of your hand you persecute me.²² You lift me up to the wind, you cause me to ride [on it]; And you dissolve me in the storm.²³ For I know that you will bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.²⁴ Surely he will not stretch out his hand to the grave, though they cry in his desctruction. In calamity will that help?²⁵ Didn't I weep for him that was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy?²⁶ When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness.²⁷ My insides are troubled, and do not rest; Days of affliction have come on me.²⁸ I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.²⁹ I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.³⁰ My skin is black, [and falls] from me, And my bones are burned with heat.³¹ Therefore my harp is [turned] to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of those that weep.