Would I lie concerning my right? My wound is incurable – without transgression.’
For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, my spirit drinks in their poison, the onslaughts of Eloah are arrayed against me.
His archers surround me, He splits my kidneys in two and does not spare, He pours out my bile on the ground.
Why is my pain without end and my wound incurable, which refuses to be healed? Are You to me like a failing stream, as waters not steadfast?
‘I am clear, without transgression; I am innocent, and I have no crookedness.