Job 30
1 “But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
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.
2 Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
Even the strength of their hands, wherefore was it mine? Upon them, vigour was lost;
3 They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
In want and hunger, they were lean, —who used to gnaw the dry ground, a dark night of desolation!
4 They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.
Who used to pluck off the mallow by the bushes, with the root of the broom for their food;
5 They are driven out from amongst men. They cry after them as after a thief,
Out of the midst, were they driven, men shouted after them, as after a thief;
6 so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
In the fissures, of the ravines had they to dwell, in holes of dust and crags;
7 They bray amongst the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.
Among the bushes, used they to shriek, Under the bramble, were they huddled together:
8 They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.
Sons of the base, yea sons of the nameless, they were scourged out of the land.
9 “Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
But, now, their song, have I become, Yea I serve them for a byword;
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
They abhor me—have put themselves far from me, and, from my face, have not withheld—spittle!
11 For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.
Because, my girdle, he had loosened and had humbled me, therefore, the bridle—in my presence, cast they off;
12 On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.
On my right hand, the young brood rose up, —My feet, they thrust aside, and cast up against me their earthworks of destruction;
13 They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.
They brake up my path, —My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;
14 As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
As through a wide breach, came they on, with a crashing noise, they rolled themselves along.
15 Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honour as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
There are turned upon me terrors, —Chased away as with a wind, is mine abundance, and, as a cloud, hath passed away my prosperity.
16 “Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
Now, therefore, over myself, my soul poureth itself out, There seize me days of affliction:
17 In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
Night, boreth, my bones, all over me, —and, my sinews, find no rest;
18 My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
Most effectually, is my skin disfigured, —Like the collar of my tunic, it girdeth me about:
19 He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.
He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes.
20 I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.
I cry out for help unto thee, and thou dost not answer, I stand still, and thou dost gaze at me;
21 You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.
Thou art turned to become a cruel one unto me, With the might of thy hand, thou assailest me;
22 You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.
Thou liftest up me to the wind, thou carriest me away, and the storm maketh me faint;
23 For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.
For I know that, unto death, thou wilt bring me back, even unto the house of meeting for every one living.
24 “However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
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.
25 Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
Verily I wept, for him whose lot was hard, Grieved was my soul, for the needy.
26 When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.
Surely, for good, I looked, but there came in evil, And I waited for light, but there came in darkness;
27 My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.
I boiled within me, and rested not, There confronted me—days of affliction;
28 I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
In gloom, I walked along, without sun, I arose—in the convocation, I cried out for help;
29 I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.
A brother, became I to the brutes that howl, and a companion to the birds that screech:
30 My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burnt with heat.
My skin, turned black, and peeled off me, and, my bones, burned with heat:
31 Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
Thus is attuned to mourning—my lyre, and my flute, to the noise of them who weep.
