1 "But now they mock me, men younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. |
2 Of what use was the strength of their hands to me, since their vigor had gone from them? |
3 Haggard from want and hunger, they roamed the parched land in desolate wastelands at night. |
4 In the brush they gathered salt herbs, and their food was the root of the broom tree. |
5 They were banished from their fellow men, shouted at as if they were thieves. |
6 They were forced to live in the dry stream beds, among the rocks and in holes in the ground. |
7 They brayed among the bushes and huddled in the undergrowth. |
8 A base and nameless brood, they were driven out of the land. |
9 "And now their sons mock me in song; I have become a byword among them. |
10 They detest me and keep their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. |
11 Now that God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they throw off restraint in my presence. |
12 On my right the tribe attacks; they lay snares for my feet, they build their siege ramps against me. |
13 They break up my road; they succeed in destroying me--without anyone's helping them. |
14 They advance as through a gaping breach; amid the ruins they come rolling in. |
15 Terrors overwhelm me; my dignity is driven away as by the wind, my safety vanishes like a cloud. |
16 "And now my life ebbs away; days of suffering grip me. |
17 Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never rest. |
18 In his great power God becomes like clothing to me; he binds me like the neck of my garment. |
19 He throws me into the mud, and I am reduced to dust and ashes. |
20 "I cry out to you, O God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me. |
21 You turn on me ruthlessly; with the might of your hand you attack me. |
22 You snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm. |
23 I know you will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living. |
24 "Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. |
25 Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? |
26 Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. |
27 The churning inside me never stops; days of suffering confront me. |
28 I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. |
29 I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of owls. |
30 My skin grows black and peels; my body burns with fever. |
31 My harp is tuned to mourning, and my flute to the sound of wailing. |