Why was I not buried like a child born dead, like a baby who never saw the light of day?
I wish I had never lived, but had been carried straight from birth to the grave.
I would be asleep with rulers who filled their houses with gold and silver.
In the grave the wicked stop making trouble, and the weary workers are at rest.
Let them be like snails that melt as they move. Let them be like a child born dead who never saw the sun.
His anger will blow them away alive faster than burning thorns can heat a pot.
But those who have never been born are better off still; they have not seen the evil that is done here on earth.
A man might have a hundred children and live a long time, but what good is it if he can’t enjoy the good God gives him or have a proper burial? I say a baby born dead is better off than he is.
Last of all he was seen by me—as by a person not born at the normal time.