¹²     My time on earth is folded up and packed away like a shepherd’s tent.
        It’s as if a weaver has snipped me off from the loom and rolled me up.
        From day to night You bring my life to an end.
¹³     I stay calm until morning arrives,
        then like a lion He breaks all my bones.
        From day to night You bring my life to an end.
¹⁴     Oh, how I argue and mourn for my passing life!
        Like a swallow or a crane I twitter;
        like a lonesome dove I moan.
    My eyes become bleary from looking up to the heavens for help.
        I cry, “O Lord, way up high, I am oppressed; come and help me!”