Job 30:8-31 They are sons of fools, yea, sons of base men. They were scourged out of the land.

ACV⁽ⁱ⁾ 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. ¹³ They mar my path. They set forward my calamity, even men who have no helper. ¹⁴ As through a wide breach they come. In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves upon me. ¹⁵ Terrors are turned upon me. They chase my honor as the wind, and my welfare is passed away as a cloud. ¹⁶ And now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold upon me. ¹⁷ In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest. ¹⁸ By the great force my garment is disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat. ¹⁹ He has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. ²⁰ I cry to thee, and thou do not answer me. I stand up, and thou gaze at me. ²¹ Thou have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of thy hand thou persecute me. ²² Thou lift me up to the wind. Thou cause me to ride upon it, and thou disintegrate me in the storm. ²³ For I know that thou will bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living. ²⁴ However does not a man stretch out the hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? ²⁵ Did I not weep for him who was in trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? ²⁶ When I looked for good, then evil came. And when I waited for light, there came darkness. ²⁷ My heart is troubled, and does not rest. Days of affliction have come upon me. ²⁸ I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. ²⁹ I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches. ³⁰ My skin is black, and falls from me. And my bones are burned with heat. ³¹ Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.