1 My hopes have died,

my time is up,

and the grave is ready.

2 All I can see are angry crowds,

making fun of me.

3 If you, Lord, don't help,

who will pay the price

for my release?

4 My friends won't really listen,

all because of you,

and so you must be the one

to prove them wrong.

5 They have condemned me,

just to benefit themselves;

now blind their children.

6 You, God, are the reason

I am insulted and spit on.

7 I am almost blind with grief;

my body is a mere shadow.

8 People who are truly good

would feel so alarmed,

that they would become angry

with my worthless friends.

9 They would do the right thing

and because they did,

they would grow stronger.*

10 But none of my friends

show any sense.

11 My life is drawing to an end;

hope has disappeared.

12 But all my friends can do

is offer empty hopes.*

13 I could tell the world below

to prepare me a bed.

14 Then I could greet the grave

as my father

and say to the worms,

"Hello, mother and sisters!"

15 But what kind of hope is that?

16 Will it keep me company

in the world of the dead?