7 Among the bushes they cry out, under the nettles they huddled together –
8 sons of fools, even sons without a name, they have been whipped out of the land.
9 And now I have become their song, and I am a byword to them.
10 They have loathed me, they have kept far from me, and did not refrain from spitting in my face.
11 Because He has loosed my bowstring and afflicted me, they have thrown off restraint in my presence.
12 At my right hand a brood rises; they pushed away my feet, and they raise up against me their destructive ways.
13 They have broken up my path, they gain by my ruin; no one restrains them.