My eye grows dim because of grief; it grows old because of all my enemies.
Mine eye is consumed because of grief; It waxeth old because of all mine enemies.
Mine eye wasteth away because of grief; It waxeth old because of all mine adversaries.
My vision fails because of my grief; it’s weak because of all my distress.
I have labored in my groaning. Every night, with my tears, I will wash my bed and drench my blanket.
I have laboured in my groanings, every night I will wash my bed: I will water my couch with my tears.
