Are not their days like those of hired laborers?
or a hired laborer waiting to be paid,
and nights of misery have been assigned to me.
The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.
my skin is broken and festering.
and they come to an end without hope.
my eyes will never see happiness again.
you will look for me, but I will be no more.
so one who goes down to the grave does not return.
his place will know him no more.
I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
that you put me under guard?
and my couch will ease my complaint,
and terrify me with visions,
rather than this body of mine.
Let me alone; my days have no meaning.
that you give them so much attention,
and test them every moment?
or let me alone even for an instant?
you who see everything we do?
Why have you made me your target?
Have I become a burden to you?a
and forgive my sins?
For I will soon lie down in the dust;
you will search for me, but I will be no more.”