have me in derision,
whose fathers I would have disdained
to put with my sheep dogs.
men in whom ripe age has perished?
They gnaw the dry ground
in the gloom of waste and desolation.
The roots of the broom are their food.
They cry out after them as after a thief,
and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
and under the nettles they are gathered together.
They were flogged out of the land.
Yes, I am a byword to them.
and do not hesitate to spit in my face.
and they have thrown off restraint before me.
They thrust aside my feet,
they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
they set forward my calamity
without anyone’s help.
in the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in.
They chase my honor as the wind.
My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
Days of affliction have taken hold on me.
and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
It binds me about as the collar of my coat.
I have become like dust and ashes.
I stand up, and you gaze at me.
With the might of your hand you persecute me.
You dissolve me in the storm.
to the house appointed for all living.
Or in his calamity therefore cry out for help?
Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
when I waited for light, there came darkness.
Days of affliction have come on me.
I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help.
and a companion to ostriches.
My bones are burned with heat.
and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.”