Job 10
1 Yt anoieth my soule of my lijf; Y schal lete my speche ayens me, Y schal speke in the bitternesse of my soule.
“My soul is weary of my life. I will give free course to my complaint. I will speak in the bitterness of my soul.
2 Y schal seie to God, Nyle thou condempne me; schewe thou to me, whi thou demest me so.
I will tell God, ‘Do not condemn me. Show me why you contend with me.
3 Whether it semeth good to thee, if thou `falsli chalengist and oppressist me, the werk of thin hondis; and if thou helpist the counsel of wickid men?
Is it good to you that you should oppress, that you should despise the work of your hands, and smile on the counsel of the wicked?
4 Whethir fleischli iyen ben to thee, ethir, as a man seeth, also thou schalt se?
Do you have eyes of flesh? Or do you see as man sees?
5 Whether thi daies ben as the daies of man, and `thi yeeris ben as mannus tymes;
Are your days as the days of mortals, or your years as man’s years,
6 that thou enquere my wickidnesse, and enserche my synne?
that you inquire after my iniquity, and search after my sin?
7 And wite, that Y haue do no `wickid thing; sithen no man is, that may delyuere fro thin hond?
Although you know that I am not wicked, there is no one who can deliver out of your hand.
8 Thin hondis han maad me, and han formed me al in cumpas; and thou castist me doun so sodeynli.
“‘Your hands have framed me and fashioned me altogether, yet you destroy me.
9 Y preye, haue thou mynde, that thou madist me as cley, and schalt brynge me ayen in to dust.
Remember, I beg you, that you have fashioned me as clay. Will you bring me into dust again?
10 Whether thou hast not mylkid me as mylk, and hast cruddid me togidere as cheese?
Haven’t you poured me out like milk, and curdled me like cheese?
11 Thou clothidist me with skyn and fleisch; thou hast ioyned me togidere with boonys and senewis.
You have clothed me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews.
12 Thou hast youe lijf and mercy to me, and thi visiting hath kept my spirit.
You have granted me life and loving kindness. Your visitation has preserved my spirit.
13 Thouy thou helist these thingis in thin herte, netheles Y woot, that thou hast mynde of alle thingis.
Yet you hid these things in your heart. I know that this is with you:
14 If Y dide synne, and thou sparidist me at an our; whi suffrist thou not me to be cleene of my wickidnesse?
if I sin, then you mark me. You will not acquit me from my iniquity.
15 And if Y was wickid, wo is to me; and if Y was iust, Y fillid with turment and wretchidnesse `schal not reise the heed.
If I am wicked, woe to me. If I am righteous, I still will not lift up my head, being filled with disgrace, and conscious of my affliction.
16 And if Y reise `the heed for pride, thou schalt take me as a lionesse; and thou turnest ayen, and turmentist me wondirli.
If my head is held high, you hunt me like a lion. Again you show yourself powerful to me.
17 Thou gaderist in store thi witnessis ayens me, and thou multipliest thin yre, `that is, veniaunce, ayens me; and peynes holden knyythod in me.
You renew your witnesses against me, and increase your indignation on me. Changes and warfare are with me.
18 Whi hast thou led me out of the wombe? `And Y wolde, that Y were wastid, lest an iye `schulde se me.
“‘Why, then, have you brought me out of the womb? I wish I had given up the spirit, and no eye had seen me.
19 That Y hadde be, as if Y were not, and `were translatid, ethir borun ouer, fro the wombe to the sepulcre.
I should have been as though I had not been. I should have been carried from the womb to the grave.
20 Whether the fewnesse of my daies schal not be endid in schort? Therfor suffre thou me, that Y biweile `a litil my sorewe,
Aren’t my days few? Stop! Leave me alone, that I may find a little comfort,
21 bifor that Y go, and turne not ayen, to the derk lond, and hilid with the derknesse of deth, to the lond of wrecchidnesse and of derknessis;
before I go where I will not return from, to the land of darkness and of the shadow of death;
22 where is schadewe of deeth, and noon ordre, but euerlastynge hidousnesse dwellith.
the land dark as midnight, of the shadow of death, without any order, where the light is as midnight.’”
