21
But You have become cruel to me; With the strength of Your hand You oppose me.
22
You lift me up to the wind and cause me to ride on it; You spoil my success.
23
For I know that You will bring me to death, And to the house appointed for all living.
24
"Surely He would not stretch out His hand against a heap of ruins, If they cry out when He destroys it.
25
Have I not wept for him who was in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor?
26
But when I looked for good, evil came to me; And when I waited for light, then came darkness.
27
My heart is in turmoil and cannot rest; Days of affliction confront me.
28
I go about mourning, but not in the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry out for help.
29
I am a brother of jackals, And a companion of ostriches.
30
My skin grows black and falls from me; My bones burn with fever.
31
My harp is turned to mourning, And my flute to the voice of those who weep.