When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint,
I am weary from groaning; all night I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears.
You have kept my eyes from closing; I am too troubled to speak.
If I were to say, ‘I will forget my complaint and change my expression and smile,’
So I am allotted months of futility, and nights of misery are appointed to me.