30 “But now those who are younger than I mock me, Whose fathers I refused to put with the dogs of my flock. 2 Indeed, what good was the strength of their hands to me? Vigor had perished from them. 3 From poverty and famine they are gaunt, They who gnaw at the dry ground by night in waste and desolation, 4 Who pluck saltweed by the bushes, And whose food is the root of the broom shrub. 5 They are driven from the community; They shout against them as against a thief, 6 So that they live on the slopes of ravines, In holes in the ground and among the rocks. 7 Among the bushes they [a]cry out; Under the weeds they are gathered together. 8 Worthless [b]fellows, even [c]those without a name, They were cast out from the land.
9 “And now I have become their [d]taunt, And I have become a [e]byword to them. 10 They loathe me and stand aloof from me, And they do not [f]refrain from spitting in my face. 11 Because He has undone [g]my [h]bowstring and afflicted me, They have cast off the bridle before me. 12 On the right hand their [i]mob arises; They push aside my feet and pile up their ways of destruction against me. 13 They break up my path, They promote my destruction; No one restrains them. 14 As through a wide gap they come, [j]Amid the storm they roll on. 15 Sudden terrors are turned upon me; They chase away my dignity like the wind, And my [k]prosperity has passed away like a cloud.
16 “And now my soul is poured out [l]within me; Days of misery have seized me. 17 At night it pierces my bones [m]within me, And my gnawing pains do not rest. 18 By a great force my garment is distorted; It ties me up like the collar of my coat. 19 He has thrown me into the mire, And I have become like dust and ashes. 20 I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer me; I stand up, and You turn Your attention against me. 21 You have [n]become cruel to me; With the strength of Your hand You persecute me. 22 You lift me up to the wind and make me ride it; And You dissolve me in a storm. 23 For I know that You will bring me to death, And to the house of meeting for all living.
24 “Yet does one in a heap of ruins not reach out with his hand, Or in his disaster does he not cry out for help? 25 Have I not wept for the [o]one whose life is hard? Was my soul not grieved for the needy? 26 When I expected good, evil came; When I waited for light, darkness came. 27 [p]I am seething within and cannot rest; Days of misery confront me. 28 I go about [q]mourning without comfort; I stand up in the assembly andcry out for help. 29 I have become a brother to jackals, And a companion of ostriches. 30 My skin turns black [r]on me, And my bones burn with [s]fever. 31 Therefore my harp [t]is turned to mourning, And my flute to the sound of those who weep.
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