“My days are swifter than a runner, they speed by without seeing happiness.

His flesh wastes away from sight, and his bones, which were not seen, are easily visible.

Or why was I not buried like a stillborn infant, like infants who have never seen the light?

whom I will see for myself, and whom my own eyes will behold, and not another. My heart grows faint within me.

But now, the sun cannot be looked at – it is bright in the skies – after a wind passed and swept the clouds away.

Then they sat down with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights, yet no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great.