Woe is me, my mother, that you gave birth to me, a man who incites dispute and conflict in all the land. I did not lend or borrow, yet everyone curses me.
May the day I was born perish, and the night when they said,“ A boy is conceived.”If only that day had turned to darkness! May God above not care about it, or light shine on it.May darkness and gloom reclaim it, and a cloud settle over it. May an eclipse of the sun terrify it.If only darkness had taken that night away! May it not appear among the days of the year or be listed in the calendar.Yes, may that night be barren; may no joyful shout be heard in it.Let those who curse certain days cast a spell on it, those who are skilled in rousing Leviathan.May its morning stars grow dark. May it wait for daylight but have none; may it not see the breaking of dawn.For that night did not shut the doors of my mother’s womb, and hide sorrow from my eyes.Why was I not stillborn; why didn’t I die as I came from the womb?Why did the knees receive me, and why were there breasts for me to nurse?Now I would certainly be lying down in peace; I would be asleep. Then I would be at restwith the kings and counselors of the earth, who rebuilt ruined cities for themselves,or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver.Or why was I not hidden like a miscarried child, like infants who never see daylight?
