²¹ Have pity on me, have pity on me, O you my friends,
    for the hand of God has touched me!^(A)

¹⁷ I did not sit in the company of merrymakers,
    nor did I rejoice;
under the weight of your hand I sat alone,
    for you had filled me with indignation.^(A)

¹⁸ Why is my pain unceasing,
    my wound incurable,
    refusing to be healed?
Truly, you are to me like a deceitful brook,
    like waters that fail.^(A)