May the day I was born be cursed. May the day my mother bore me never be blessed.May the man be cursed who brought the news to my father, saying,“ A male child is born to you,” bringing him great joy.Let that man be like the cities the LORD demolished without compassion. Let him hear an outcry in the morning and a war cry at noontimebecause he didn’t kill me in the womb so that my mother might have been my grave, her womb eternally pregnant.Why did I come out of the womb to see only struggle and sorrow, to end my life in shame?
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?
The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for him if he had not been born.”
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.
