The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.

Militia est vita hominis super terram, et sicut dies mercenarii dies ejus.

What is man’s life on earth but a campaigning? Like a hired drudge, he passes his time away;

As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;

Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius præstolatur finem operis sui,

nor ever was slave so weary, longing for the shade, or drudge so weary, waiting to earn his hire,

So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.

sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi.

as I have been, counting these months of emptiness, these nights that never brought rest.

If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall I arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.

Si dormiero, dicam: Quando consurgam? et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras.

Lie I down to sleep, I weary to be up with the day; comes the day, I weary for the evening, comfortless until dark.

My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together.

Induta est caro mea putredine, et sordibus pulveris cutis mea aruit et contracta est.

Overgrown my flesh with worms, matted with dust; my skin dried up and shrivelled.

My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.

Dies mei velocius transierunt quam a texente tela succiditur, et consumpti sunt absque ulla spe.

Frail as the weaver’s thread my years vanish away, spent without hope.

Remember that my life is but wind, and my eye shall not return to see good things.

Memento quia ventus est vita mea, et non revertetur oculus meus ut videat bona.

Bethink thee, Lord, it is but a breath, this life of mine, and I shall look on this fair world but once;

Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.

Nec aspiciet me visus hominis; oculi tui in me, et non subsistam.

when that is done, men will see me no more, and thou as nothing.

As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up.

Sicut consumitur nubes, et pertransit, sic qui descenderit ad inferos, non ascendet.

Like a cloud dislimned in passing, man goes to his grave never to return;

Nor shall he return any more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

Nec revertetur ultra in domum suam, neque cognoscet eum amplius locus ejus.

never again the home-coming, never shall tidings of him reach the haunts he knew.

Wherefore I will not spare my mouth, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.

Quapropter et ego non parcam ori meo: loquar in tribulatione spiritus mei; confabulabor cum amaritudine animæ meæ.

And should I utter no word? Nay, the crushed spirit will find a voice, the embittered heart will not keep its own counsel.

Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison?

Numquid mare ego sum, aut cetus, quia circumdedisti me carcere?

Am I a raging sea, a ravening monster, that thou guardest me so close?

If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch:

Si dixero: Consolabitur me lectulus meus, et relevabor loquens mecum in strato meo:

When I would find rest on my pillow, take refuge in night thoughts,

Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions.

terrebis me per somnia, et per visiones horrore concuties.

what dreams thou sendest to daunt me, what sights of terror to unman me!

So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.

Quam ob rem elegit suspendium anima mea, et mortem ossa mea.

The rope for me! Death only will content this frame.

I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing.

Desperavi: nequaquam ultra jam vivam: parce mihi, nihil enim sunt dies mei.

To despair I yield myself, I will live on no more; loose thy hold of me; this life of mine is but the shadow of a life.

What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him?

Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum? aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?

Why is it that thou wilt make so noble a thing of man, wilt pay so much heed to him?

Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly.

Visitas eum diluculo, et subito probas illum.

Never a day dawns but thou wilt surprise him at his post; never a moment when thou art not making proof of him.

How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle?

Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me ut glutiam salivam meam?

Nay, gaze on me no more; leave me, though it were but for a breathing-space, to myself!

I have sinned: what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men? why hast thou set me opposite to thee, and I am become burdensome to myself?

Peccavi; quid faciam tibi, o custos hominum? quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetipsi gravis?

If sinned I have, does human act of mine claim thy watchful regard? Must my path always cross thine, my life always be a burden to me?

Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away my iniquity? Behold now I shall sleep in the dust: and if thou seek me in the morning, I shall not be.

Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam? ecce nunc in pulvere dormiam, et si mane me quæsieris, non subsistam.

Would it cost thee much to forgive sin of mine, pass over fault of mine, when I, so soon, shall be lying in the dust, missing at my post, as thou makest thy rounds at dawn?