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14 Yet I curse the day I was born!
    May no one celebrate the day of my birth.
15 I curse the messenger who told my father,
    “Good news—you have a son!”
16 Let him be destroyed like the cities of old
    that the Lord overthrew without mercy.
Terrify him all day long with battle shouts,
17     because he did not kill me at birth.
Oh, that I had died in my mother’s womb,
    that her body had been my grave!
18 Why was I ever born?
    My entire life has been filled
    with trouble, sorrow, and shame.

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14 Cursed be the day that I was born.
    May the day my mother gave birth to me not be blessed.
15 Cursed be the one
    who delivered the news to my father,
        “You have a son!”—
        filling him with joy.
16 May the bearer of that news be like the cities
    that the Lord destroyed without mercy.
May he hear screams in the morning,
    and the battle cries at noon,
17     because he didn’t kill me in the womb
        and let my mother become my grave,
        her womb pregnant forever.
18 Why was I ever born
    when all I see is suffering and misery,
        and my days are filled with shame?

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