Verse 11

⁶Every part of it cut into by worms, tender as it is, it faints again and again from moment to moment, in great distress from the hungry things that live there. ⁷Touched by the bitter and sharp and hot and salt and dry and sour things the mother eats, all of them harsh, it has pain rising in every limb. ⁸Shut in by the caul within and covered outside by the entrails, it stays with its head down against its belly and its back and neck bent round. ⁹Unable to move a limb of its own, like a bird in a cage, if by fate it there gets its memory back and remembers the hundred births its acts have made, drawing no free breath, what comfort can it possibly find?

¹⁰From the seventh month on, though it has come to understanding, it is shaken by the winds of birth and cannot stay in one place, like the worm born of filth that shares that same belly. ¹¹Crying out for a protector, frightened, bound in the seven bonds, hands folded, the seer would praise in a faltering voice the one who set him in that belly.