Job spoke, saying: Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery? Are not his days those of hirelings?
He is a slave who longs for the shade, a hireling who waits for his wages.
So I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me.
If in bed I say, “When shall I arise?” then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.
My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.