7 “Is not all human life a struggle?
    Our lives are like that of a hired hand,
² like a worker who longs for the shade,
    like a servant waiting to be paid.
³ I, too, have been assigned months of futility,
    long and weary nights of misery.
⁴ Lying in bed, I think, ‘When will it be morning?’
    But the night drags on, and I toss till dawn.
⁵ My body is covered with maggots and scabs.
    My skin breaks open, oozing with pus.