11
"Why did I not die at birth? Why did I not perish when I came from the womb?
12
Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breasts, that I should nurse?
13
For now I would have lain still and been quiet, I would have been asleep; Then I would have been at rest
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With kings and counselors of the earth, Who built ruins for themselves,
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Or with princes who had gold, Who filled their houses with silver;
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Or why was I not hidden like a stillborn child, Like infants who never saw light?
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There the wicked cease from troubling, And there the weary are at rest.
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There the prisoners rest together; They do not hear the voice of the oppressor.
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The small and great are there, And the servant is free from his master.
20
"Why is light given to him who is in misery, And life to the bitter of soul,
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Who long for death, but it does not come, And search for it more than hidden treasures;
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Who rejoice exceedingly, And are glad when they can find the grave?
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Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, And whom God has hedged in?
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For my sighing comes before I eat, And my groanings pour out like water.
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For the thing I greatly feared has come upon me, And what I dreaded has happened to me.
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I am not at ease, nor am I quiet; I have no rest, for trouble comes."