Salmos 77

Voy a abrir mi boca en un poema, y evocaré escondidas lecciones del pasado.

Al Señor busqué en el día de mi angustia: mi mal corría de noche, y no cesaba: mi alma rehusaba consuelo.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord: my sore ran in the night, and ceased not: my soul refused to be comforted.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord. My hand was stretched out in the night, and didn’t get tired. My soul refused to be comforted.