In place of my food I have grief, and cries of sorrow come from me like water.

Their produce is taken by him who has no food, and their grain goes to the poor, and he who is in need of water gets it from their spring.

Who gives rain on the earth, and sends water on the fields:

Will the river-plant come up in its pride without wet earth? will the grass get tall without water?

If I am washed with snow water, and make my hands clean with soap;

Longer in measure than the earth, and wider than the sea.

Still, at the smell of water, it will make buds, and put out branches like a young plant.

How much less one who is disgusting and unclean, a man who takes in evil like water!

You do not give water to the tired traveller, and from him who has no food you keep back bread.

But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:

To give water to the land where there is waste and destruction, and to make the dry land green with young grass?

By whose wisdom are the clouds numbered, or the water-skins of the heavens turned to the earth,

He takes his rest under the trees of the river, and in the pool, under the shade of the water-plants.

Who has ever taken off his outer skin? who may come inside his inner coat of iron?