My loins burn with fever; there is no wholesomeness in my flesh.
For to me sighing comes more readily than food; my groans well forth like water.
My inward parts seethe and will not be stilled; days of affliction have overtaken me.
I go about in gloom, without the sun; I rise in the assembly and cry for help.
Because I kept silent, my bones wasted away; I groaned all day long.
Like bears we all growl, like doves we moan without ceasing. We cry out for justice, but it is not there; for salvation, but it is far from us.