I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.
I am faint and sorely bruised [deadly cold and quite worn out]; I groan by reason of the disquiet and moaning of my heart.
I am faint and sore bruised: I have groaned by reason of the disquietness of my heart.
I’m worn out, completely crushed; I groan because of my miserable heart.
And now, what is it that awaits me? Is it not the Lord? And my substance is with you.
And now what is my hope? is it not the Lord? and my substance is with thee.
For my sighing cometh before I eat, and my roarings are poured out like the waters.
My bowels boiled, and rested not: the days of affliction prevented me.
I went mourning without the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation.
When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.
We roar all like bears, and mourn sore like doves: we look for judgment, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far off from us.