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 out 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 untied 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 have 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 my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.