Because of the sound of my groaning My bones cling to my flesh.
“Like a flower he comes forth and withers. He also flees like a shadow and does not stand.
“My bone clings to my skin and my flesh, And I have escaped only by the skin of my teeth.
¶I am weary with my sighing; Every night I make my bed swim, I flood my couch with my tears.
¶Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity, For Yahweh has heard the sound of my weeping.
In the morning it blossoms and sprouts anew; Toward evening it withers away and dries up.
A glad heart is good medicine, But a broken spirit dries up the bones.
Their form is blacker than soot; They are not recognized in the streets; Their skin is shriveled on their bones; It is withered, it has become like wood.
And so it would happen year after year, as often as she went up to the house of Yahweh, she would provoke her; so she wept and would not eat.