2 Like a slave we pant for a shadow,await our task like a hired worker.
3 So I have inherited months of emptiness;nights of toil have been measured out for me.
4 If I lie down and think—When will I get up?—night drags on, and restless thoughts fill me until dawn.
5 My flesh is covered with worms and crusted earth;my skin hardens and oozes.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle;they reach their end without hope.
7 Remember that my life is wind;my eyes won’t see pleasure again.
8 The eye that sees me now will no longer look on me;your eyes will be on me, and I won’t exist.