30
1 “But
now those who are
younger than I
have me in
derision,
whose fathers I considered unworthy
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 tree
are their food.
5 They
are driven out
from among men.
They cry after
them as after
a thief,
6 so that they
live in frightful
valleys,
and in holes
of the earth
and of the
rocks.
7 They
bray among the
bushes.
They are gathered
together under the
nettles.
8 They
are children of
fools, yes,
children of wicked
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
their ways of destruction
up against me.
13 They
mar my path.
They promote my
destruction
without anyone’s help.
14 As through
a wide breach
they come.
They roll
themselves in amid
the ruin.
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
of me.
17 In
the night season
my bones are
pierced in me,
and the pains
that gnaw me
take no rest.
18 My
garment is disfigured by
great force.
It binds me about as
the collar of
my tunic.
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, darkness came.
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.