12My resting-place is pulled up and taken away from me like a herdsman's tent: my life is rolled up like a linen-worker's thread; I am cut off from the cloth on the frame: from day even to night you give me up to pain.
13I am crying out with pain till the morning; it is as if a lion was crushing all my bones.
14I make cries like a bird; I give out sounds of grief like a dove: my eyes are looking up with desire; O Lord, I am crushed, take up my cause.
15What am I to say? seeing that it is he who has done it: all my time of sleeping I am turning from side to side without rest.
16O Lord, for this cause I am waiting for you, give rest to my spirit: make me well again, and let me come back to life.
17See, in place of peace my soul had bitter sorrow. but you have kept back my soul from the underworld; for you have put all my sins out of your memory.
18For the underworld is not able to give you praise, death gives you no honour: for those who go down into the underworld there is no hope in your mercy.
