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“Is there not appointed service for man upon the earth? Are not his days like the days of a hired worker?
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Like a servant panting for shadow, and like a hired worker waiting for his wages,
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so I have been allotted new moons of emptiness, and nights of trouble have been appointed to me.
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When I lie down, I say, ‘When shall I rise and the night be measured?’ And I am filled with restlessness until twilight.
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My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin hardens and melts away.
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My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle and are completed without hope.
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Remember that my life is ruach; my eye shall not return to see good.
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The eye of the one seeing me shall behold me no more; Your eyes shall be upon me, but I shall not be.
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A cloud is completed and goes away; so the one descending to Sheol does not ascend.
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He does not return again to his house, and his place recognizes him no more.
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Therefore I also shall not restrain my mouth. I shall speak in the distress of my ruach; I shall complain in the bitterness of my being.
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Am I the sea, or a sea-monster, that You set a guard over me?
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When I say, ‘My bed shall comfort me; my couch shall lift my complaint,’
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then You terrify me with dreams and make me tremble through visions,
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so that my being chooses strangling— death rather than these bones.
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I reject it; I shall not live forever. Cease from me, for my days are vapor.
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What is mortal man, that You make him great, and that You set Your heart upon him;
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that You visit him every morning and test him every moment?
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How long shall You not look away from me or release me until I swallow my saliva?
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I have sinned—what have I done to You, Watcher of Adam? Why have You set me as a mark for Yourself, so that I have become a burden to myself?
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And why do You not bear my transgression and cause my crookedness to pass away? For now I shall lie down in the dust; You shall seek me at dawn, but I shall not be.”