1But now men younger than I am laugh at me. I would have refused to put their fathers with the dogs of my flock.
2What use to me was the strength of their hands? All their vigour had perished.
3They were worn out with want and hunger, and they went off alone, gnawing the dry ground, long ago waste and desolate.
4They pulled up saltwort among the bushes, and juniper roots were their food.
5They were driven out from among men; people shouted after them as after a thief.
6They had to live in the gullies of the valleys, in holes in the ground, and among the rocks.
7Among the bushes they brayed; under the nettles they huddled together.
8They were the children of fools, the children of men with no name. They were whipped out of the land.
9And now I am their song; I am the word they use as a joke.
10They hate me. They keep far away from me. They do not hold back from spitting in my face.
11Because God has loosed my cord and brought me low, they too have thrown off all restraint in front of me.
12On my right hand the rabble rise up. They push my feet away. They build their roads of ruin against me.
13They break up my path. They add to my disaster, and no one helps me.
14They come at me like water pouring through a wide gap. They roll in on me among the ruins.
15Terrors are turned loose on me. They chase my honour away like the wind, and my safety passes by like a cloud.
16And now my life is poured out within me. Days of suffering have taken hold of me.
17At night my bones are pierced through, and the pain that gnaws me never rests.
18With great force my clothing is disfigured; it grips me tight like the collar of my coat.
19He has thrown me into the mud, and I have become like dust and ashes.
20I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you only look at me.
21You have become cruel to me. With your strong hand you set yourself against me.
22You lift me up to the wind and make me ride on it. You melt me away in the storm.
23For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all the living.
24Yet surely no one strikes at a ruined heap of a man, if he cries out in his trouble.
25Did I not weep for the one in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor?
26When I looked for good, then evil came to me. When I waited for light, darkness came.
27My insides boil and never rest. Days of suffering have come out to meet me.
28I go about darkened, but not by the sun. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls.
30My skin is black and falls off me, and my bones burn with heat.
31So my harp is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the sound of those who weep.