7 1 Don't people have hard service on earth, and aren't their days like those of a hired worker? 2 Like a slave who longs for the shade, and like a hired worker who waits for his wages, 3 so I have been allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery have been assigned to me. 4 When I lie down I say, "When will I get up?" But the night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn. 5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dirt; my skin hardens, then breaks open again. 6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and they come to their end without hope. 7 Remember that my life is but a breath; I will never again see anything good. 8 The eye that sees me now will see me no more; your eyes will be on me, and I will be gone. 9 As a cloud fades and vanishes, so the one who goes down to the grave does not come up; a a v9 Sheol: the Hebrew name for the realm of the dead — a dim, shadowy place beneath the earth. 10 he returns no more to his house, and his place knows him no longer.
11 Therefore I will not keep my mouth shut; I will speak out of the anguish of my spirit, I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. 12 Am I the sea, or a sea monster, that you set a guard over me? 13 When I say, "My bed will comfort me, my couch will ease my complaint," 14 then you frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, 15 so that I would choose strangling and death rather than this body of mine. 16 I waste away; I will not live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are a breath.
17 What is man, that you make so much of him, and that you set your heart on him, 18 that you visit him every morning and test him every moment? 19 How long until you look away from me, and leave me alone long enough to swallow my spit? 20 If I have sinned, what have I done to you, watcher of mankind? Why have you made me your target, so that I have become a burden to myself? 21 Why won't you forgive my sin and take away my guilt? For soon I will lie down in the dust; you will search for me, but I will be gone.