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