¹² And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood;

¹ "But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.

² Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?

³ They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.

⁴ They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom are their food.

⁵ They are driven out from the midst of men. They cry after them as after a thief;

⁶ So that they dwell in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.

⁷ Among the bushes they bray; and under the nettles they are gathered together.

⁸ They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. They were flogged out of the land.

⁹ "Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.

¹⁰ They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don't hesitate to spit in my face.

¹¹ For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.

¹² On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction.

¹³ They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, without anyone's help.

¹⁴ As through a wide breach they come, in the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in.

¹⁵ Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.

¹⁶ "Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold on me.

¹⁷ In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.

¹⁸ By great force is my garment disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat.

¹⁹ He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.

²⁰ I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.

²¹ You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.

²² You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.

²³ For I know that you will bring me to death, To the house appointed for all living.

²⁴ "However doesn't one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

²⁵ Didn't I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy?

²⁶ When I looked for good, then evil came; When I waited for light, there came darkness.

²⁷ My heart is troubled, and doesn't rest. Days of affliction have come on me.

²⁸ I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

²⁹ I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.

³⁰ My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.

³¹ Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.