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“Isn’t a man forced to labor on earth?
    Aren’t his days like the days of a hired hand?
As a servant who earnestly desires the shadow,
    as a hireling who looks for his wages,
so I am made to possess months of misery,
    wearisome nights are appointed to me.
When I lie down, I say,
    ‘When will I arise, and the night be gone?’
    I toss and turn until the dawning of the day.
My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust.
    My skin closes up, and breaks out afresh.

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