1 “But now they mock me, men younger than I am, whose fathers I would have refused to entrust with my sheep dogs. | TOSK |
2 What use to me was the strength of their hands, since their vigor had left them? | TOSK |
3 Gaunt from poverty and hunger, they gnawed the dry land, and the desolate wasteland by night. | TOSK |
4 They plucked mallow among the shrubs, and the roots of the broom tree were their food. | TOSK |
5 They were banished from among men, shouted down like thieves, | TOSK |
6 so that they lived on the slopes of the wadis, among the rocks and in holes in the ground. | TOSK |
7 They cried out among the shrubs and huddled beneath the nettles. | TOSK |
8 A senseless and nameless brood, they were driven off the land. | TOSK |
9 And now they mock me in song; I have become a byword among them. | TOSK |
10 They abhor me and keep far from me; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. | TOSK |
11 Because God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they have cast off restraint in my presence. | TOSK |
12 The rabble arises at my right; they lay snares for my feet and build siege ramps against me. | TOSK |
13 They tear up my path; they profit from my destruction, with no one to restrain them. | TOSK |
14 They advance as through a wide breach; through the ruins they keep rolling in. | TOSK |
15 Terrors are turned loose against me; they drive away my dignity as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed like a cloud. | TOSK |
16 And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction grip me. | TOSK |
17 Night pierces my bones, and my gnawing pains never rest. | TOSK |
18 With great force He grasps my garment; He seizes me by the collar of my tunic. | TOSK |
19 He throws me into the mud, and I have become like dust and ashes. | TOSK |
20 I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer; when I stand up, You merely look at me. | TOSK |
21 You have ruthlessly turned on me; You oppose me with Your strong hand. | TOSK |
22 You snatch me up into the wind and drive me before it; You toss me about in the storm. | TOSK |
23 Yes, I know that You will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living. | TOSK |
24 Yet no one stretches out his hand to a ruined man when he cries for help in his distress. | TOSK |
25 Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has my soul not grieved for the needy? | TOSK |
26 But when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, darkness fell. | TOSK |
27 I am churning within and cannot rest; days of affliction confront me. | TOSK |
28 I go about blackened, but not by the sun. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. | TOSK |
29 I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of ostriches. | TOSK |
30 My skin grows black and peels, and my bones burn with fever. | TOSK |
31 My harp is tuned to mourning and my flute to the sound of weeping. | TOSK |