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So I have been assigned months of futility,
    and troubled nights have been counted off for me.

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When I lie down I say, “When shall I arise?”
    then the night drags on;
    I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.

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My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle;
    they come to an end without hope.

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Remember that my life is like the wind;(A)
    my eye will not see happiness again.

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