Slide 48

17 The night racks my bones,

and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.

18 With violence he seizes my garment;*

he grasps me by* the collar of my tunic.

19 He has cast me into the mire,

and I have become like dust and ashes.

20 I cry to you and you do not answer me;

I stand, and you merely look at me.