ACV(i)
1 But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2 Yea, the strength of their hands, to what should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished.
3 They are gaunt with want and famine. They gnaw the dry ground in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4 They pluck mallows by the bushes, and the roots of the juniper are their food.
5 They are driven forth from the midst of men. They cry out after them as after a thief,
6 so that they dwell in frightful valleys, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 Among the bushes they bray, under the nettles they are gathered together.
8 They are sons of fools, yea, sons of base men. They were scourged out of the land.
9 And now I have become their song, Yea, I am a byword to them.
10 They abhor me. They stand aloof from me, and do not spare to spit in my face.