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My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the desires of my heart.

He has no offspring or family among his people, and in his living-place there is no one of his name.

Even young children have no respect for me; when I get up their backs are turned on me.

His foot is taken in the net; he comes into its grip.

Ten times now you have made sport of me; it gives you no sense of shame to do me wrong.

He has put off my glory from me, and taken the crown from my head.

At his fate those of the west are shocked, and those of the east are overcome with fear.

They are changing night into day; they say, The light is near the dark.

The twisted cord is put secretly in the earth to take him, and the cord is placed in his way.

All the men of my circle keep away from me; and those dear to me are turned against me.

His wrath is burning against me, and I am to him as one of his haters.

His strength is made feeble for need of food, and destruction is waiting for his falling footstep.

For the light of the sinner is put out, and the flame of his fire is not shining.

Truly, I make an outcry against the violent man, but there is no answer: I give a cry for help, but no one takes up my cause.

Where then is my hope? and who will see my desire?

Why do we seem as beasts in your eyes, and as completely without knowledge?

But come back, now, all of you, come; and I will not see a wise man among you.

Only two things do not do to me, then I will come before your face:

Take your hand far away from me; and let me not be overcome by fear of you.

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

Though a man comes to nothing like a bit of dead wood, or like a robe which has become food for the worm.

Is it on such a one as this that your eyes are fixed, with the purpose of judging him?

Truly, you make the fear of God without effect, so that the time of quiet worship before God is made less by your outcry.

Though my hands have done no violent acts, and my prayer is clean.

I might give you strength with my mouth, and not keep back the comfort of my lips.

But man comes to his death and is gone: he gives up his spirit, and where is he?

As for man, the son of woman, his days are short and full of trouble.

If only you would keep me safe in the underworld, putting me in a secret place till your wrath is past, giving me a fixed time when I might come to your memory again!

Only his flesh still has pain, and his soul is sad.

With us are men who are grey-haired and full of years, much older than your father.