1My spirit is broken,
my days are over
and the grave awaits me.
2Mockers surround me;
my eyes grow dim with nights of bitterness.
3Sponsor me, O God,
since no one will support me.
4You have closed their minds
so they will not dare.
5Who will help a friend when his children are in need?
6I have been made everybody’s byword,
a man in whose face people spit.
7My eyes have grown dim with grief,
my frame shrunken to a shadow.
8At this, the godly are appalled,
and the guiltless rail against the wicked.
9The righteous feel at ease
and those with clean hands are strengthened.
10But come on again, all of you;
I will not find a single sage among you.
11My days are ended, my plans shattered,
and so my heart desires
12the night when it is day,
the coming of light as soon as it darkens.
13Where is my hope? The grave is my home,
in the darkness I spread out my bed,
14I must call corruption “my father,”
and the worm “my mother” or “my sister.”
15What can I wait for,
and who will see any hope for me?
16Will it go down to the bars of death,
shall we descend together into the dust?
