² Oh, that my grief were actually weighed,
    all of it were lifted up in scales;
³     for now it’s heavier than the sands of the sea;
        therefore, my words are rash.^[a]
4 The Almighty’s arrows are in me;
    my spirit drinks their poison,
    and God’s terrors are arrayed against me.

⁸ Oh, that what I’ve requested would come
        and God grant my hope;
⁹     that God be willing to crush me,
    release his hand and cut me off.
¹⁰ I’d still take comfort,
    relieved^[a] even though in persistent pain;
        for I’ve not denied the words of the holy one.
¹¹ What is my strength, that I should hope;
    my end, that my life should drag on?
¹² Is my strength that of rocks,
    my flesh bronze?
¹³ I don’t have a helper for myself;
    success has been taken from me.

¹⁴ Are friends loyal to the one who despairs,^[b]
    or do they stop fearing the Almighty?
¹⁵ My companions are treacherous like a stream in the desert,
    like channels that overrun their streambeds,

²¹ That’s what you are like;^[a]
    you see something awful and are afraid.