The eye of my beholder beholdeth me not. Thine eyes are upon me -- and I am not.

He turneth not again to his house, Nor doth his place discern him again.

A sea -monster am I, or a dragon, That thou settest over me a guard?

Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.

When I said, 'My bed doth comfort me,' He taketh away in my talking my couch.

Thou dost not take away my transgression, And cause to pass away mine iniquity, Because now, for dust I lie down: And Thou hast sought me -- and I am not!

And thou hast affrighted me with dreams, And from visions thou terrifiest me,

I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days are vanity.

And my soul chooseth strangling, Death rather than my bones.

What is man that Thou dost magnify him? And that Thou settest unto him Thy heart?

I have sinned, what do I to Thee, O watcher of man? Why hast Thou set me for a mark to Thee, And I am for a burden to myself -- and what?

How long dost Thou not look from me? Thou dost not desist till I swallow my spittle.

Remember Thou that my life is a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.

My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.

So I have been caused to inherit months of vanity, And nights of misery they numbered to me.

And inspectest him in the mornings, In the evenings dost try him?

If I lay down then I said, 'When do I rise!' And evening hath been measured, And I have been full of tossings till dawn.

As a servant desireth the shadow, And as a hireling expecteth his wage,

Clothed hath been my flesh with worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,

Is there not a warfare to man on earth? And as the days of an hireling his days?

Consumed hath been a cloud, and it goeth, So he who is going down to Sheol cometh not up.