I sigh when food is put before me, and my groans pour out like water.
For I have eaten ashes like bread and mixed my drink with tears
You fed them with the bread of tears and made them drink the full measure of their tears.
My tears have been my food both day and night, while men ask me all day long, “Where is your God?”
I am numb and badly crushed; I groan in anguish of heart.
For the choirmaster. To the tune of “The Doe of the Dawn.” A Psalm of David. My God, my God, why have You forsaken me? W
so that he detests his bread, and his soul loathes his favorite food.
Will You never look away from me, or leave me alone to swallow my spittle?
Even when I cry out and plead for help, He shuts out my prayer.
We all growl like bears and moan like doves. We hope for justice, but find none, for salvation, but it is far from us.
My soul refuses to touch them; they are loathsome food to me.
When I kept silent, my bones became brittle from my groaning all day long.