Our skin was black like an oven Because of the terrible famine.
Their visage is blacker than a coal; They are not known in the streets: Their skin cleaveth to their bones; It is withered, it is become like a stick.
My skin is black upon me, And my bones are burned with heat.
For I am become like a bottle in the smoke; Yet do I not forget thy statutes.
My flesh and my skin hath he made old; He hath broken my bones.