Job 30
1 But, now, they who are of fewer days than I, have poured derision upon me; whose fathers I refused—to set with the dogs of my flock.
Nunc autem derident me iuniores tempore, quorum non dignabar patres ponere cum canibus gregis mei:
2 Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
Quorum virtus manuum mihi erat pro nihilo, et vita ipsa putabantur indigni.
3 In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
Egestate et fame steriles, qui rodebant in solitudine, squallentes calamitate, et miseria.
4 Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
Et mandebant herbas, et arborum cortices, et radix iuniperorum erat cibus eorum.
5 Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
Qui de convallibus ista rapientes, cum singula reperissent, ad ea cum clamore currebant.
6 In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
In desertis habitabant torrentium, et in cavernis terræ, vel super glaream.
7 Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
Qui inter huiuscemodi lætabantur, et esse sub sentibus delicias computabant.
8 Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
Filii stultorum et ignobilium, et in terra penitus non parentes.
9 But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
Nunc in eorum canticum versus sum, et factus sum eis in proverbium.
10 They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
Abominantur me, et longe fugiunt a me, et faciem meam conspuere non verentur.
11 Because, my girdle, he had loosened and had humbled me, therefore, the bridle—in my presence, cast they off;
Pharetram enim suam aperuit, et afflixit me, et frenum posuit in os meum.
12 On my right hand, the young brood rose up, —My feet, they thrust aside, and cast up against me their earthworks of destruction;
Ad dexteram orientis calamitates meæ illico surrexerunt: pedes meos subverterunt, et oppresserunt quasi fluctibus semitis suis.
13 They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
Dissipaverunt itinera mea, insidiati sunt mihi, et prævaluerunt, et non fuit qui ferret auxilium.
14 As through a wide breach, came they on, with a crashing noise, they rolled themselves along.
Quasi rupto muro, et aperta ianua, irruerunt super me, et ad meas miserias devoluti sunt.
15 There are turned upon me terrors, —Chased away as with a wind, is mine abundance, and, as a cloud, hath passed away my prosperity.
Redactus sum in nihilum: abstulisti quasi ventus desiderium meum: et velut nubes pertransiit salus mea.
16 Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
Nunc autem in memetipso marcescit anima mea, et possident me dies afflictionis.
17 Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
Nocte os meum perforatur doloribus: et qui me comedunt, non dormiunt.
18 Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
In multitudine eorum consumitur vestimentum meum, et quasi capito tunicæ succinxerunt me.
19 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
Comparatus sum luto, et assimilatus sum favillæ et cineri.
20 I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
Clamo ad te, et non exaudis me: sto, et non respicis me.
21 Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;
Mutatus es mihi in crudelem, et in duritia manus tuæ adversaris mihi.
22 Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
Elevasti me, et quasi super ventum ponens elisisti me valide.
23 For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.
Scio quia morti trades me, ubi constituta est domus omni viventi.
24 Only, against a heap of ruins, will one not thrust a hand! Surely, when one is in calamity—for that very reason, is there an outcry for help.
Verumtamen non ad consumptionem eorum emittis manum tuam: et si corruerint, ipse salvabis.
25 Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.
Flebam quondam super eo, qui afflictus erat, et compatiebatur anima mea pauperi.
26 Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
Expectabam bona, et venerunt mihi mala: præstolabar lucem, et eruperunt tenebræ.
27 I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
Interiora mea efferbuerunt absque ulla requie, prævenerunt me dies afflictionis.
28 In gloom, I walked along, without sun, I arose—in the convocation, I cried out for help;
Mœrens incedebam, sine furore, consurgens, in turba clamabam.
29 A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
Frater fui draconum, et socius struthionum.
30 My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
Cutis mea denigrata est super me, et ossa mea aruerunt præ caumate.
31 Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
Versa est in luctum cithara mea, et organum meum in vocem flentium.
