When You Stop Filtering Your Prayers.

הֲלֹא־צָבָ֣א לֶאֱנ֣וֹשׁ ׳עַל־עֲלֵי־אָ֑רֶץ׳ וְכִימֵ֖י שָׂכִ֣יר יָמָֽיו׃

“Has not man a hard service on earth, and are not his days like the days of a hired hand?

כְּעֶ֥בֶד יִשְׁאַף־צֵ֑ל וּ֝כְשָׂכִ֗יר יְקַוֶּ֥ה פָעֳלֽוֹ׃

[2] Like a slave who longs for the shadow, and like a hired hand who looks for his wages,

כֵּ֤ן הָנְחַ֣לְתִּי לִ֭י יַרְחֵי־שָׁ֑וְא וְלֵיל֥וֹת עָ֝מָ֗ל מִנּוּ־לִֽי׃

[3] so I am allotted months of emptiness, and nights of misery are apportioned to me.

אִם־שָׁכַ֗בְתִּי וְאָמַ֗רְתִּי מָתַ֣י אָ֭קוּם וּמִדַּד־עָ֑רֶב וְשָׂבַ֖עְתִּי נְדֻדִ֣ים עֲדֵי־נָֽשֶׁף׃

[4] When I lie down I say, ‘When shall I arise?’ But the night is long, and I toss and turn till the dawn.

לָ֘בַ֤שׁ בְּשָׂרִ֣י רִ֭מָּה ׳וְגִישׁ׳ ״וְג֣וּשׁ״ עָפָ֑ר עוֹרִ֥י רָ֝גַ֗ע וַיִּמָּאֵֽס׃

[5] My flesh is clothed with worms and dirt; my skin hardens, then breaks out afresh.