2 Oh that my grief and calamity were justly weighed and laid equally in the balances!
3 For it would be heavier than the sand of the sea; therefore, my words are swallowed up.
4 For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; my spirit drinks of the poison; and terrors of God combat me.
5 Does the wild ass bray when he has grass? Does the ox low over his fodder?
6 Can that which is unsavoury be eaten without salt? Or is there any taste in the white of an egg?
7 The things that my soul refused to touch before, now by my sorrow are my food.
8 Oh, that I might have my request and that God would grant me the thing that I long for!