16-19. “And now my life drains out,as suffering seizes and grips me hard.Night gnaws at my bones;the pain never lets up.I am tied hand and foot, my neck in a noose.I twist and turn.Thrown facedown in the muck,I’m a muddy mess, inside and out.
20-23. “I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer!I stand to face you in protest, and you give me a blank stare!You’ve turned into my tormenter—you slap me around, knock me about.You raised me up so I was riding highand then dropped me, and I crashed.I know you’re determined to kill me,to put me six feet under.
24-31. “What did I do to deserve this?Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help?Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life,been heartsick over the lot of the poor?But where did it get me?I expected good but evil showed up.I looked for light but darkness fell.My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down.Each day confronts me with more suffering.I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone.I stand in the congregation and protest.I howl with the jackals,I hoot with the owls.I’m black-and-blue all over,burning up with fever.My fiddle plays nothing but the blues;my mouth harp wails laments.”