look away from them and desist, that they may enjoy, like laborers, their days.
Are not the days of my life few? Let me alone, that I may find a little comfort
“For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again and that its shoots will not cease.
I loathe my life; I would not live forever. Let me alone, for my days are a breath.
Will you not look away from me for a while, let me alone until I swallow my spittle?
Turn your gaze away from me, that I may smile again, before I depart and am no more.”
But now the Lord says, “In three years, like the years of a hired worker, the glory of Moab will be brought into contempt, in spite of all its great multitude, and those who survive will be very few and feeble.”