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.