I wish I had never existed but had been carried from the womb to the grave.
I should have been as though I had not been; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.
I should have been as though I had not existed; I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.
Then I would be just as if I hadn’t existed, taken from the belly to the grave.
I should have been as if I had not been: transferred from the womb to the tomb.
I should have been as if I had not been, carried from the womb to the grave.
‘Why did you bring me out of the womb? I should have died and never been seen.
Are my days not few? Stop it! Leave me alone, so that I can smile a little
Yet I am not destroyed by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face.
Why was I not stillborn; why didn’t I die as I came from the womb?
Or why was I not hidden like a miscarried child, like infants who never see daylight?
because he didn’t kill me in the womb so that my mother might have been my grave, her womb eternally pregnant.