I groan aloud; I am nothing but skin and bones.
We grow and wither as quickly as flowers; we disappear like shadows.
My skin hangs loose on my bones; I have barely escaped with my life.
I am worn out with grief; every night my bed is damp from my weeping; my pillow is soaked with tears.
Keep away from me, you evil people! The Lord hears my weeping;
that grow and burst into bloom, then dry up and die in the evening.
Being cheerful keeps you healthy. It is slow death to be gloomy all the time.
Now they lie unknown in the streets, their faces blackened in death; their skin, dry as wood, has shriveled on their bones.
This went on year after year; whenever they went to the house of the Lord, Peninnah would upset Hannah so much that she would cry and refuse to eat anything.
