Job 30
1 But now those who are younger than I make sport of me; those whose fathers I would not have put with the dogs of my flocks.
Now those who are younger than I have nothing but mockery for me— these young men whose fathers I would have refused to allow to work beside the dogs of my flock.
2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me? all force is gone from them.
Indeed, the strength of their fathers' hands, how could it have helped me— men in whom the strength of their mature age had perished?
3 They are wasted for need of food, biting the dry earth; their only hope of life is in the waste land.
They were thin from poverty and hunger; they gnawed at the dry ground in the darkness of wilderness and desolation.
4 They are pulling off the salt leaves from the brushwood, and making a meal of roots.
They plucked saltwort and bushes' leaves; the roots of the broom tree were their food.
5 They are sent out from among their townsmen, men are crying after them as thieves
They were driven out from among people who shouted after them as one would shout after a thief.
6 They have to get a resting-place in the hollows of the valleys, in holes of the earth and rocks.
So they had to live in river valleys, in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 They make noises like asses among the brushwood; they get together under the thorns.
Among the bushes they brayed like donkeys and they gathered together under the nettles.
8 They are sons of shame, and of men without a name, who have been forced out of the land.
They were the sons of fools, indeed, sons of nameless people! They were driven out of the land with whips.
9 And now I have become their song, and I am a word of shame to them.
But now I have become the subject of their taunting song; I have become a byword for them.
10 I am disgusting to them; they keep away from me, and put marks of shame on me.
They abhor me and stand far off from me; they do not refrain from spitting in my face.
11 For he has made loose the cord of my bow, and put me to shame; he has sent down my flag to the earth before me.
For God has unstrung the string to my bow and afflicted me, and those who taunt me cast off restraint before my face.
12 The lines of his men of war put themselves in order, and make high their ways of destruction against me:
Upon my right hand rise the rabble; they drive me away and pile up against me their siege mounds.
13 They have made waste my roads, with a view to my destruction; his bowmen come round about me;
They destroy my path; they push forward disaster for me, men who have no one to hold them back.
14 As through a wide broken place in the wall they come on, I am overturned by the shock of their attack.
They come against me like an army through a wide hole in a city wall; in the midst of the destruction they roll themselves in on me.
15 Fears have come on me; my hope is gone like the wind, and my well-being like a cloud.
Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is driven away as if by the wind; my prosperity passes away as a cloud.
16 But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
Now my life is pouring out from within me; many days of suffering have laid hold on me.
17 The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.
In the night my bones in me are pierced; the pains that gnaw at me take no rest.
18 With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.
God's great force has seized my clothing; it wraps around me like the collar of my tunic.
19 Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
He has thrown me into the mud; I have become like dust and ashes.
20 You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.
I cry to you, God, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you merely look at me.
21 You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.
You have changed and become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you persecute me.
22 Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.
You lift me up to the wind and cause it to drive me along; you throw me back and forth in a storm.
23 For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.
For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all the living.
24 Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?
However, does no one reach out with his hand to beg for help when he falls? Does no one in trouble call out for help?
25 Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?
Did not I weep for him who was in trouble? Did I not grieve for the needy man?
26 For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.
When I hoped for good, then evil came; when I waited for light, darkness came instead.
27 My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.
My heart is troubled and does not rest; days of affliction have come on me.
28 I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.
I have gone about like one who was living in the dark, but not because of the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.
I am a brother to jackals, a companion of ostriches.
30 My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.
My skin is black and falls away from me; my bones are burned with heat.
31 And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.
Therefore my harp is tuned for songs of mourning, my flute for the singing of those who wail.
