ECB(i)
11 My days pass my intrigues are torn - the possessions of my heart.
12 They set the night into day; the light is near the face of the darkness.
13 If I await, sheol is my house; I spread my bed in the darkness.
14 I call out to the pit of ruin, My father; to the maggot, My mother! My sister!
15 And where is my hope now? As for my hope, who observes?
16 They descend to the veins of sheol, we rest together in the dust.