¹Hath not man a life of labour upon earth? and are not his days like the days of a hireling? ²As a bondman earnestly desireth the shadow, and a hireling expecteth his wages, ³So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me. ⁴If I lie down, I say, When shall I rise up, and the darkness be gone? and I am full of tossings until the dawn. ⁵My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and suppurates. ⁶My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope.

⁷Remember thou that my life is wind; mine eye shall no more see good. ⁸The eye of him that hath seen me shall behold me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not. ⁹The cloud consumeth and vanisheth away; so he that goeth down to Sheol shall not come up. ¹⁰He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him again. ¹¹Therefore I will not restrain my mouth: I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. ¹²Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, that thou settest a watch over me? ¹³When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint; ¹⁴Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions; ¹⁵So that my soul chooseth strangling, death, rather than my bones. ¹⁶I loathe it; I shall not live always: let me alone, for my days are a breath.

¹⁷What is man, that thou makest much of him? and that thou settest thy heart upon him? ¹⁸And that thou visitest him every morning, triest him every moment? ¹⁹How long wilt thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle? ²⁰Have I sinned, what do I unto thee, thou Observer of men? Why hast thou set me as an object of assault for thee, so that I am become a burden to myself? ²¹And why dost not thou forgive my transgression and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I lie down in the dust, and thou shalt seek me early, and I shall not be.

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