I loathe my life
I vent my complaints
In my bitter distress I speak
Do not pronounce me guilty
Why are you contending with me
Does it benefit you to oppress
To despise the work of your hands
Do you have eyes of flesh
Are your days like mortals
No one can save me from your hand
Destroyed by the artist
Why did you bring me out from the womb
I should have died before any eye could see me
It would have been as though I never existed
Taken straight from the womb to the grave
My days are few, leave me alone
I will go away and not return
To lands of gloom
A land of shadow
Where light does not shine