1 “But now they mock at me, men¹ younger than I,
Whose fathers I disdained to put with the dogs of my flock. ‡

2 Indeed, what profit is the strength of their hands to me?
Their vigor has perished.

3 They are gaunt from want and famine,
Fleeing late to the wilderness, desolate and waste,

4 Who pluck¹ mallow by the bushes,
And broom tree roots for their food. ‡

5 They were driven out from among men,
They shouted at them as at a thief.

6 They had to live in the clefts of the¹ valleys,
In¹ caves of the earth and the rocks. ‡

7 Among the bushes they brayed,
Under the nettles they nestled.

8 They were sons of fools,
Yes, sons of vile men;
They were scourged from the land.

9 “And^a now I am their taunting song;
Yes, I am their byword. ‡

10 They abhor me, they keep far from me;
They do not hesitate ^ato spit in my face. ‡

11 Because ^aHe has loosed my bowstring and afflicted me,
They have cast off restraint before me. ‡

12 At my right hand the rabble arises;
They push away my feet,
And ^athey raise against me their ways of destruction. ‡

13 They break up my path,
They promote my calamity;
They have no helper.