To all my foes I am a thing of scorn, and especially to my neighbors a horror to my friends. When they see me in public, they quickly shy away.
My family has withdrawn from me, my friends are wholly estranged.
My relatives and companions neglect me, my guests have forgotten me.
I am like a wineskin shriveled by smoke, but I have not forgotten your statutes.
With an iron rod you will shepherd them, like a potter’s vessel you will shatter them.”
Friends and companions shun my disease; my neighbors stand far off.
Your enemies, Lord, insult; they insult each step of your anointed.
Crashing like a potter’s jar smashed beyond rescue, And among its fragments cannot be found a sherd to scoop fire from the hearth or dip water from the cistern.
He will rule them with an iron rod. Like clay vessels will they be smashed,