men who are younger than I,
whose fathers I would have disdained
to set with the dogs of my flock.
men whose vigor is gone?
they gnaw the dry ground by night in waste and desolation;
and the roots of the broom tree for their food.a
they shout after them as after a thief.
in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
under the nettles they huddle together.
they have been whipped out of the land.
I am a byword to them.
they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of me.
they have cast off restraintb in my presence.
they push away my feet;
they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
they promote my calamity;
they need no one to help them.
amid the crash they roll on.
my honor is pursued as by the wind,
and my prosperity has passed away like a cloud.
days of affliction have taken hold of me.
and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
it binds me about like the collar of my tunic.
and I have become like dust and ashes.
I stand, and you only look at me.
with the might of your hand you persecute me.
and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
and to the house appointed for all living.
and in his disaster cry for help?d
Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
and when I waited for light, darkness came.
days of affliction come to meet me.
I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
and a companion of ostriches.
and my bones burn with heat.
and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.