17
1The night 2racks my bones, and the pain that 3gnaws me takes no rest.
18
With great force my garment is 4disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic.
19
God has cast me into the mire, and I have become like 5dust and ashes.
20
I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me.
21
You have 6turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you 7persecute me.
22
8You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm.
23
9For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for 10all living.
24
"Yet does not one in a 11heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help?
25
Did not I 12weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy?
26
But 13when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, 14darkness came.
27
My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction 15come to meet me.
28
I 16go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in 17the assembly and cry for help.
29
I am a brother of 18jackals and a companion of 19ostriches.
30
My 20skin turns black and falls from me, and my 21bones burn with heat.
31
My 22lyre is 23turned to mourning, and my 24pipe to the voice of those who weep.