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For in death there is no remembrance of thee;
    in Sheol who can give thee praise?

I am weary with my moaning;
    every night I flood my bed with tears;
    I drench my couch with my weeping.
My eye wastes away because of grief,
    it grows weak because of all my foes.

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Among the dead no one proclaims your name.
    Who praises you from the grave?(A)

I am worn out(B) from my groaning.(C)

All night long I flood my bed with weeping(D)
    and drench my couch with tears.(E)
My eyes grow weak(F) with sorrow;
    they fail because of all my foes.

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