| 7:1 |
The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand. |
| 7:2 |
Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work, |
| 7:3 |
so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights. |
| 7:4 |
If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness. |
| 7:5 |
My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened. |
| 7:6 |
My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope. |
| 7:7 |
Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things. |
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