⁶ My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
    and come to their end without hope.^[a]

¹⁶ I loathe my life; I would not live forever.
    Let me alone, for my days are a breath.
¹⁷ What are human beings, that you make so much of them,
    that you set your mind on them,
¹⁸ visit them every morning,
    test them every moment?
¹⁹ Will you not look away from me for a while,
    let me alone until I swallow my spittle?