1 Is there not a warfare to common man on earth? And are not his days like the days of a hired worker?
2 As a slave who earnestly desires the shadow, And as a hired worker that looks for his wages:
3 So am I made to possess months of misery, And wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? And I am full of tossings to and fro to the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; My skin closes up, and breaks out afresh.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
7 Oh remember that my life is a breath: My eye will no more see good.
8 The eye of him who sees me will look at me no more; Your eyes will be on me, but I will not be.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away, So he who goes down to Sheol will come up no more.
10 He will return no more to his house, Neither will his place know him anymore.
11 Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, That you set a watch over me?
13 When I say, My bed will comfort me, My couch will ease my complaint;
14 Then you scare me with dreams, And terrify me through visions:
15 So that my soul chooses strangling, And death rather than my bones.
16 I loathe [my life]; I would not live always: Let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17 What is common man, that you should magnify him, And that you should set your mind on him,
18 And that you should visit him every morning, And try him every moment?
19 How long will you not look away from me, Nor let me alone until I swallow down my spittle?
20 If I have sinned, what do I do to you, O you watcher of man? Why have you set me as a mark for you, So that I am a burden to you?
21 And why don't you pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? For now I will lie down in the dust; And you will seek me diligently, but I will not be.