1
"But now those who are younger than I, have me in derision, Whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.
2
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, Men in whom ripe age has perished?
3
They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom are their food.
5
They are driven forth from the midst of men; They cry after them as after a thief;
6
So that they dwell in frightful valleys, And in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7
Among the bushes they bray; And under the nettles they are gathered together.
8
They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. They were flogged out of the land.
9
"Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
10
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And don`t hesitate to spit in my face.