17:1 My spirit is broken,
my days have faded out,
the grave awaits me.
17:13 If I hope for the grave to be my home,
if I spread out my bed in darkness,
17:14 If I cry to corruption, ‘You are my father,’
and to the worm, ‘My Mother,’ or ‘My sister,’
17:15 where then is my hope?
And my hope, who sees it?
17:16 Will it go down to the barred gates of death?
Will we descend together into the dust?”