8 wet from mountain rains,with no refuge, huddled against a rock.
9 The orphan is stolen from the breast;the infant of the poor is taken as collateral.
10 The poor go around naked, without clothes,carry bundles of grain while hungry,
11 crush olives between millstones,tread winepresses, but remain thirsty.
12 From the city, the dying cry out;the throat of the mortally wounded screams, but God assigns no blame.
13 They rebel against light,don’t acknowledge its direction,don’t dwell in its paths.
14 The murderer rises at twilight,kills the poor and needy;at night, they are like a thief.