5 Clothed hath been my flesh [with] worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
6 My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
7 Remember Thou that my life [is] a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.
8 The eye of my beholder beholdeth me not. Thine eyes [are] upon me -- and I am not.
9 Consumed hath been a cloud, and it goeth, So he who is going down to Sheol cometh not up.
10 He turneth not again to his house, Nor doth his place discern him again.
11 Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
