¹⁴ Cursed `is' the day in which I was born, The day that my mother bare me, Let it not be blessed!

¹⁰ Wo to me, my mother, For thou hast borne me a man of strife, And a man of contention to all the land, I have not lent on usury, Nor have they lent on usury to me -- All of them are reviling me.

³ Let the day perish in which I am born, And the night that hath said: `A man-child hath been conceived.'

⁴ That day -- let it be darkness, Let not God require it from above, Nor let light shine upon it.

⁵ Let darkness and death-shade redeem it, Let a cloud tabernacle upon it, Let them terrify it as the most bitter of days.

⁶ That night -- let thick darkness take it, Let it not be united to days of the year, Into the number of months let it not come.

⁷ Lo! that night -- let it be gloomy, Let no singing come into it.

⁸ Let the cursers of day mark it, Who are ready to wake up Leviathan.

⁹ Let the stars of its twilight be dark, Let it wait for light, and there is none, And let it not look on the eyelids of the dawn.

¹⁰ Because it hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.

¹¹ Why from the womb do I not die? From the belly I have come forth and gasp!

¹² Wherefore have knees been before me? And what `are' breasts, that I suck?

¹³ For now, I have lain down, and am quiet, I have slept -- then there is rest to me,

¹⁴ With kings and counsellors of earth, These building wastes for themselves.

¹⁵ Or with princes -- they have gold, They are filling their houses `with' silver.

¹⁶ (Or as a hidden abortion I am not, As infants -- they have not seen light.)