"Why didn't I die from the womb? Why didn't I give up the spirit when my mother bore me?

Isn't your piety your confidence? Isn't the integrity of your ways your hope?

"Isn't a man forced to labor on earth? Aren't his days like the days of a hired hand?

Behold, he goes by me, and I don't see him. He passes on also, but I don't perceive him.

His sons come to honor, and he doesn't know it. They are brought low, but he doesn't perceive it of them.

Haven't you asked wayfaring men? Don't you know their evidences,

He works to the north, but I can't see him. He turns south, but I can't catch a glimpse of him.

"Why aren't times laid up by the Almighty? Why don't those who know him see his days?

The deep says, 'It isn't in me.' The sea says, 'It isn't with me.'

Didn't I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy?

Didn't he who made me in the womb make him? Didn't one fashion us in the womb?

if his heart hasn't blessed me, if he hasn't been warmed with my sheep's fleece;