¹My breath is ruined, my days are extinguished; graves are for me.

²Surely mockeries are with me, and on their rebelling my eye must lodge.

³Lay it down, please; be surety for me with yourself. Who is the one who will strike hands with me?

⁴For you have hidden their heart from understanding; therefore you will not lift them high.

⁵He exposes friends for a share, while the eyes of his sons fail.

⁶He has set me up as a byword to the peoples, and I am one to spit at in the face.

⁷My eye has grown dim from vexation, and all my limbs are like a shadow.

⁸The upright are appalled at this, and the innocent rouses himself against the godless.

⁹The righteous holds to his way, and the one clean of hands adds strength.

¹⁰But all of you, return and come, please; I will not find among you a wise one.

¹¹My days have passed; my plans are torn apart, the delights of my heart.

¹²They put night for day; light is near in the face of darkness.

¹³If I wait for Sheol as my house, if I have spread out my couch in the darkness,

¹⁴To the pit I call out, 'You are my father'; to the maggot, 'My mother and my sister.'

¹⁵And where, then, is my hope? And my hope, who will behold it?

¹⁶Will they go down to the poles of Sheol, or will we descend together into the dust?