You hunt me like a lion
1 Since I loathe my life,
I shall pour forth my complaint;
I shall speak of my soul’s torment.
2 I shall say to God: Do not condemn me,
but tell me what is your quarrel with me?
3 Would it be good for you to oppress me,
to spurn the work of your hands
and favor the designs of the wicked?
4 Have you human eyes?
Do you see as man sees?
5 Are your days as the days of man,
or your years as a mortal’s lifetime?
6 Why do you seek guilt in me
and search for my faults?
7 You know I have not sinned,
but who can rescue me from your hand?
8 You have formed and made me.
Will you then turn and destroy me?
9 Remember that you molded me from clay.
Will you turn me to dust again?
10 Did you not pour me out like milk
and curdle me like cheese?
11 You wrapped me up in skin and flesh,
knit me together with bones and sinews.
12 In your goodness you gave me life
and watched over my breathing with care.
13 Yet this is what you hid in your heart,
I know what was in your mind:
14 You wanted to see if I sinned,
and not let my fault be forgiven.
15 If I am guilty – alas for me!
If innocent – I dare not lift my head,
humbled and shamed in my affliction.
16 Exhausted, you hunt me like a lion,
you want to prove that you are stronger.
17 You renew your attack on me;
you intensify your rage,
wave upon wave, your forces assail me.
18 Why did you bring me out of the womb?
I wish I had died unseen,
19 a being that had not been –
carried from the womb direct to the tomb.
20 Are not my days almost over?
Turn away; leave me a while to recover
21 before I go to the place of no return,
to the land of gloom and shadow,
22 to the land of chaos and deepest night,
where darkness is the only light.