1But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2Indeed, the strength of their hands, of what profit should it be to me? Men in whom ripe age has perished.
3They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.
5They are driven out from the midst of men; They cry after them as after a thief;
6So that they dwell in frightful valleys, In holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7Among the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together.
8They are children of fools, indeed, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land.
9And now I have become their song, Indeed, I am a byword to them.
10They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And do not refrain from spitting in my face.
11For he has loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.
12On my right hand the rabble rise; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
13They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Even men who have no helper.
14As through a wide breach they come: In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves on me.
15Terrors are turned on me; They chase my honor as the wind; And my welfare has passed away as a cloud.
16And now my soul is poured out within me; Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17In the night season my bones are pierced in me, And the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
18By God’s great force my garment is disfigured; It binds me about as the collar of my coat.
19He has cast me into the mire, And I have become like dust and ashes.
20I cry to you, and you do not answer me: I stand up, and you gaze at me.
21You have turned to be cruel to me; With the might of your hand you persecute me.
22You lift me up to the wind, you cause me to ride on it; And you dissolve me in the storm.
23For I know that you will bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.
24Yet does not one stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
25Did I not weep for him who was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
26When I looked for good, then evil came; And when I waited for light, there came darkness.
27My heart is troubled, and does not rest; Days of affliction have come upon me.
28I go mourning without the sun: I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
29I am a brother to jackals, And a companion to ostriches.
30My skin is black, and falls from me, And my bones are burned with heat.
31Therefore my harp is turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of those who weep.