"Should I lie against my right? my wound is incurable without transgression."
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His archers compass me round about, he cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare; he poureth out my gall upon the ground.
My lips shall not speak wickedness, nor my tongue utter deceit.
For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, the poison whereof drinketh up my spirit: the terrors of God do set themselves in array against me.
Though I am right, still I am in pain; my wound may not be made well, though I have done no wrong.
Should I lie against my right? My wound is incurable without transgression.
Should I lie against my right? my wound is incurable without transgression.
Should I lie against my right? my wound is incurable without transgression.
Notwithstanding my right I am considered a liar; My wound is incurable, though I am without disobedience.'
Against my right do I lie? Mortal `is' mine arrow -- without transgression.'