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Why has my pain become unending, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? You truly have become like a mirage to me — water that is not reliable.
Why is my pain unceasing, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? Will you be to me like a deceitful brook, like waters that fail?
Why is my pain perpetual, and my wound incurable, which refuseth to be healed? wilt thou be altogether unto me as a liar, and as waters that fail?
Why has my pain been endless And my wound incurable, refusing to be healed? Will You indeed be to me like a deceptive stream With water that is unreliable?
Why is my pain unending and my wound grievous and incurable? You are to me like a deceptive brook, like a spring that fails.
Why is my pain perpetual And my wound incurable, Which refuses to be healed? Will You surely be to me like an unreliable stream, As waters that fail?
Why then does my suffering continue? Why is my wound so incurable? Your help seems as uncertain as a seasonal brook, like a spring that has gone dry.”
Why is my pain perpetual, and my wound incurable, which refuses to be healed? Will you indeed be to me as a deceitful brook, like waters that fail?