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17:1  My hopes have died, my time is up, and the grave is ready.
17:2  All I can see are angry crowds, making fun of me.
17:3  If you, Lord, don't help, who will pay the price for my release?
17:4  My friends won't really listen, all because of you, and so you must be the one to prove them wrong.
17:5  They have condemned me, just to benefit themselves; now blind their children.
17:6  You, God, are the reason I am insulted and spit on.
17:7  I am almost blind with grief; my body is a mere shadow.
17:8  People who are truly good would feel so alarmed, that they would become angry with my worthless friends.
17:9  They would do the right thing and because they did, they would grow stronger.
17:10  But none of my friends show any sense.
17:11  My life is drawing to an end; hope has disappeared.
17:12  But all my friends can do is offer empty hopes.
17:13  I could tell the world below to prepare me a bed.
17:14  Then I could greet the grave as my father and say to the worms, “Hello, mother and sisters!”
17:15  But what kind of hope is that?
17:16  Will it keep me company in the world of the dead?