17 My spirit is broken,
    my days extinguished,
    the grave,^[a] mine.

¹³ If I hope for the underworld^[a] as my dwelling,
    lay out my bed in darkness,
¹⁴     I’ve called corruption “my father,”
    the worm, “my mother and sister.”
¹⁵     Where then is my hope?
        My hope—who can see it?
¹⁶ Will they go down with me to the underworld;^[b]
    will we descend together to the dust?