Our lives are like that of a hired hand,
like a servant waiting to be paid.
long and weary nights of misery.
But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.
Job Cries Out to God
They end without hope.
and I will never again feel happiness.
You will look for me, but I will be gone.
those who diea will not come back.
never to be seen again.
I must express my anguish.
My bitter soul must complain.
that you must place me under guard?
and sleep will ease my misery,’
and terrify me with visions.
rather die than suffer like this.
Oh, leave me alone for my few remaining days.
that you should think of us so often?
and test us every moment.
at least long enough for me to swallow!
O watcher of all humanity?
Why make me your target?
Am I a burden to you?b
and take away my guilt?
For soon I will lie down in the dust and die.
When you look for me, I will be gone.”