I am feeble and utterly broken: I have groaned by reason of the turmoil of my heart.
I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.
I am faint and sorely bruised [deadly cold and quite worn out]; I groan by reason of the disquiet and moaning of my heart.
I am faint and sore bruised: I have groaned by reason of the disquietness of my heart.
I’m worn out, completely crushed; I groan because of my miserable heart.
And now, what is it that awaits me? Is it not the Lord? And my substance is with you.
And now what is my hope? is it not the Lord? and my substance is with thee.
For my sighing comes before I eat, and my groanings are poured out like the waters.
My heart is in turmoil, and rests not: the days of affliction confront me.
I went mourning but not in the sun: I stood up, and I cried in the congregation.
When I kept silence, my bones grew old through my groaning all the day long.
We all growl like bears, and mourn greatly like doves: we look for justice, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far off from us.