Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.

In the street doth not lodge a stranger, My doors to the traveller I open.

And He shutteth up with doors the sea, In its coming forth, from the womb it goeth out.

And I measure over it My statute, And place bar and doors,

The doors of his face who hath opened? Round about his teeth are terrible.