My breath is repulsive to my wife; I am loathsome to my brothers.

For I am full of words, and the spirit within me constrains me.

because it did not shut the doors of my mother’s womb on me, nor did it hide trouble from my eyes!

Inside I am like wine which has no outlet, like new wineskins ready to burst!

O my son, O son of my womb, O son of my vows,

Will the Lord accept a thousand rams, or ten thousand streams of olive oil? Should I give him my firstborn child as payment for my rebellion, my offspring – my own flesh and blood – for my sin?

I listened and my stomach churned; the sound made my lips quiver. My frame went limp, as if my bones were decaying, and I shook as I tried to walk. I long for the day of distress to come upon the people who attack us.