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Isn’t man’s time on earth like being compelled to serve in the army? Aren’t his days like those of a hired man?
Like a slave, he longs for shade,
or like a day laborer, he waits for his pay.
In the same way, I have been allotted months of futility,
and nights of agony have been assigned to me.
When I lie down, I think, “How long before I get up?”
But the night drags on,
and I am filled with restlessness until dawn.
My flesh is clothed with maggots and caked with dirt.
My skin scabs over and then oozes again.

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