Job 7
1 Hath not man a life of labour upon earth? and are not his days like the days of a hireling?
Militia est vita hominis super terram: et sicut dies mercenarii, dies eius.
2 As a bondman earnestly desireth the shadow, and a hireling expecteth his wages,
Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius praestolatur finem operis sui:
3 So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
Sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi.
4 If I lie down, I say, When shall I rise up, and the darkness be gone? and I am full of tossings until the dawn.
Si dormiero, dicam: Quando consurgam? et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and suppurates.
Induta est caro mea putredine et sordibus pulveris, cutis mea aruit, et contracta est.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
Dies mei velocius transierunt quam a texente tela succiditur, et consumpti sunt absque ulla spe.
7 Remember thou that my life is wind; mine eye shall no more see good.
Memento quia ventus est vita mea, et non revertetur oculus meus ut videat bona.
8 The eye of him that hath seen me shall behold me no [more]: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.
Nec aspiciet me visus hominis: oculi tui in me, et non subsistam.
9 The cloud consumeth and vanisheth away; so he that goeth down to Sheol shall not come up. (Sheol h7585)
Sicut consumitur nubes, et pertransit: sic qui descenderit ad inferos, non ascendet. (Sheol h7585)
10 He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him again.
Nec revertetur ultra in domum suam, neque cognoscet eum amplius locus eius.
11 Therefore I will not restrain my mouth: I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
Quapropter et ego non parcam ori meo, loquar in tribulatione spiritus mei: confabulabor cum amaritudine animae meae.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, that thou settest a watch over me?
Numquid mare ego sum, aut cetus, quia circumdedisti me carcere?
13 When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint;
Si dixero: Consolabitur me lectulus meus, et relevabor loquens mecum in strato meo:
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions;
Terrebis me per somnia, et per visiones horrore concuties.
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, death, rather than my bones.
Quam ob rem elegit suspendium anima mea, et mortem ossa mea.
16 I loathe it; I shall not live always: let me alone, for my days are a breath.
Desperavi, nequaquam ultra iam vivam: parce mihi, nihil enim sunt dies mei.
17 What is man, that thou makest much of him? and that thou settest thy heart upon him?
Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum? aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?
18 And that thou visitest him every morning, triest him every moment?
Visitas eum diluculo, et subito probas illum:
19 How long wilt thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me ut glutiam salivam meam?
20 Have I sinned, what do I unto thee, thou Observer of men? Why hast thou set me as an object of assault for thee, so that I am become a burden to myself?
Peccavi, quid faciam tibi o custos hominum? quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetipsi gravis?
21 And why dost not thou forgive my transgression and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I lie down in the dust, and thou shalt seek me early, and I shall not be.
Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam? ecce, nunc in pulvere dormiam: et si mane me quaesieris, non subsistam.
