1
But now people much younger than me laugh at me; people whose fathers I would not put to work with my sheepdogs.
2
They are too weak to be any use to me; they're all worn-out.
3
Thin through hunger and want, they try to eat the dry ground in the dark, desolate wilderness.
4
There they pick desert herbs and the leaves of bushes, and eat the roots of broom trees.
5
They were driven out of the community.
6
People shouted after them as if they were thieves. They have to live in dangerous ravines, in caves and among the rocks.
7
They shout out like animals among the bushes; they huddle together in the weeds for shelter.
8
They are foolish, nameless people that have been driven from the land.
9
Yet now they mock me in their songs; I have become a joke to them!
10
They despise and shun me; they don't hesitate to spit in my face.
11
God has made my bowstring loose* and humbled me.
12
The rabble rise up against me, they send me running;* like a city under siege they devise ways to destroy me.*
13
They cut off my way of escape; they bring about my downfall and do this without anyone's help.
14
They come in through a wide breach; they rush in as the wall comes tumbling down.*
15
Terrors overcome me; my honor is blown away by the wind; my salvation vanishes like a cloud.
16
And now my life is ebbing away; every day despair* grips me.
17
At night my bones are in agony; the pain gnaws at me and never stops.
18
God grabs me roughly by my clothes; he pulls me by the collar of my shirt.
19
He has thrown me in the mud; he has humbled me like dust and ashes.
20
God, I cry to you but you don't answer; I stand before you, but you don't even notice me.
21
You have turned cruel to me; you use your power to make me suffer.
22
You pick me up and blow me along in the wind; tossing me about in the whirlwind.
23
I know you're taking me to my death, to the place where all the living go.
24
Who would want to kick a man when he is down, * when they cry for help in their time of trouble?
25
Didn't I weep for those having hard times? Didn't I grieve at what the poor suffered?
26
But when I looked for good, only evil came, and when I waited for the light, all that came was darkness.
27
Inside I am in turmoil,* it never stops; I face days of despair.
28
I am so depressed; seeing the sun doesn't help.* I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29
I am like a brother to the jackals, a companion to owls.*
30
My skin turns black on me; and my bones burn within me.
31
My lyre only plays sad songs, and my pipe is the voice of those who weep.