| 1 | 'But now those who are younger than I, have me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. |
| 2 | Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, Men in whom ripe age has perished? |
| 3 | They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation. |
| 4 | They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. 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, And in holes of the earth and of the rocks. |
| 7 | Among the bushes they bray; And under the nettles they are gathered together. |
| 8 | They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. They were flogged out of the land. |
| 9 | 'Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them. |
| 10 | They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And don't hesitate to spit in my face. |
| 11 | For he has loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have thrown off restraint before me. |
| 12 | On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction. |
| 13 | They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Without anyone's help. |
| 14 | As through a wide breach they come, In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in. |
| 15 | Terrors are turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud. |
| 16 | 'Now my soul is poured out within 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 great force is my garment disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat. |
| 19 | He has cast me into the mire. 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, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm. |
| 23 | For I know that you will bring me to death, To the house appointed for all living. |
| 24 | 'However doesn't one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? |
| 25 | Didn't I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy? |
| 26 | When I looked for good, then evil came; When I waited for light, there came darkness. |
| 27 | My heart is troubled, and doesn't 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 grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat. |
| 31 | Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, And my pipe into the voice of those who weep. |