Sing unto HaShem, praise ye HaShem; for He hath delivered the soul of the needy from the hand of evil-doers.
Cursed be the day wherein I was born; the day wherein my mother bore me, let it not be blessed.
Cursed be the man who brought tidings to my father, saying: 'A man-child is born unto thee'; making him very glad.
And let that man be as the cities which HaShem overthrew, and repented not; and let him hear a cry in the morning, and an alarm at noontide;
Because He slew me not from the womb; and so my mother would have been my grave, and her womb always great.
Wherefore came I forth out of the womb to see labour and sorrow, that my days should be consumed in shame?