When I lie down I say, ‘When shall I rise?’ But the night is long, and I am full of tossing until dawn.
They make night into day; ‘The light,’ they say, ‘is near to the darkness.’
The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.
I am gone like a shadow at evening; I am shaken off like a locust.
my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.
I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping.
You keep my eyelids from closing; I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, I am about to set your stones in antimony and lay your foundations with sapphires.
In the morning you shall say, ‘If only it were evening!’ and at evening you shall say, ‘If only it were morning!’—because of the dread that your heart shall feel and the sights that your eyes shall see.