1 My soul is tired of life; I will let my sad thoughts go free in words; my soul will make a bitter outcry.

2 I will say to God, Do not put me down as a sinner; make clear to me what you have against me.

3 What profit is it to you to be cruel, to give up the work of your hands, looking kindly on the design of evil-doers?

4 Have you eyes of flesh, or do you see as man sees?

5 Are your days as the days of man, or your years like his,

6 That you take note of my sin, searching after my wrongdoing,

7 Though you see that I am not an evil-doer; and there is no one who is able to take a man out of your hands?

8 Your hands made me, and I was formed by you, but then, changing your purpose, you gave me up to destruction.

9 O keep in mind that you made me out of earth; and will you send me back again to dust?

10 Was I not drained out like milk, becoming hard like cheese?

11 By you I was clothed with skin and flesh, and joined together with bones and muscles.

12 You have been kind to me, and your grace has been with me, and your care has kept my spirit safe.

13 But you kept these things in the secret of your heart; I am certain this was in your thoughts:

14 That, if I did wrong, you would take note of it, and would not make me clear from sin:

15 That, if I was an evil-doer, the curse would come on me; and if I was upright, my head would not be lifted up, being full of shame and overcome with trouble.

16 And that if there was cause for pride, you would go after me like a lion; and again put out your wonders against me:

17 That you would send new witnesses against me, increasing your wrath against me, and letting loose new armies on me.

18 Why then did you make me come out of my mother's body? It would have been better for me to have taken my last breath, and for no eye to have seen me,

19 And for me to have been as if I had not been; to have been taken from my mother's body straight to my last resting-place.

20 Are not the days of my life small in number? Let your eyes be turned away from me, so that I may have a little pleasure,

21 Before I go to the place from which I will not come back, to the land where all is dark and black,

22 A land of thick dark, without order, where the very light is dark.

1 L’anima mia prova disgusto della vita; vo’ dar libero corso al mio lamento, vo’ parlar nell’amarezza dell’anima mia!

2 Io dirò a Dio: "Non mi condannare! Fammi sapere perché contendi meco!"

3 Ti par egli ben fatto d’opprimere, di sprezzare l’opera delle tue mani e di favorire i disegni de’ alvagi?

4 Hai tu occhi di carne? Vedi tu come vede l’uomo?

5 I tuoi giorni son essi come i giorni del mortale, i tuoi anni son essi come gli anni degli umani,

6 che tu investighi tanto la mia iniquità, che t’informi così del mio peccato,

7 pur sapendo ch’io non son colpevole, e che non v’è chi mi liberi dalla tua mano?

8 Le tue mani m’hanno formato m’hanno fatto tutto quanto… e tu mi distruggi!

9 Deh, ricordati che m’hai plasmato come argilla… e tu mi fai ritornare in polvere!

10 Non m’hai tu colato come il latte e fatto rapprender come il cacio?

11 Tu m’hai rivestito di pelle e di carne, e m’hai intessuto d’ossa e di nervi.

12 Mi sei stato largo di vita e di grazia, la tua provvidenza ha vegliato sul mio spirito,

13 ed ecco quello che nascondevi in cuore! Sì, lo so, questo meditavi:

14 se avessi peccato, l’avresti ben tenuto a mente, e non m’avresti assolto dalla mia iniquità.

15 Se fossi stato malvagio, guai a me! Se giusto, non avrei osato alzar la fronte, sazio d’ignominia, spettatore della mia miseria.

16 Se l’avessi alzata, m’avresti dato la caccia come ad un leone e contro di me avresti rinnovato le tue maraviglie;

17 m’avresti messo a fronte nuovi testimoni, e avresti raddoppiato il tuo sdegno contro di me; legioni su legioni m’avrebbero assalito.

18 E allora, perché m’hai tratto dal seno di mia madre? Sarei spirato senza che occhio mi vedesse!

19 Sarei stato come se non fossi mai esistito, m’avrebbero portato dal seno materno alla tomba!

20 Non son forse pochi i giorni che mi restano? Cessi egli dunque, mi lasci stare, ond’io mi rassereni un poco,

21 prima ch’io me ne vada, per non più tornare, nella terra delle tenebre e dell’ombra di morte:

22 terra oscura come notte profonda, ove regnano l’ombra di morte ed il caos, il cui chiarore è come notte scura".