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.
11 For he has loosed his cord, and afflicted me. And they have cast off the bridle before me.
12 Upon my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, and they cast up against me their ways of destruction.