Job 30

¹But 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.

²Of what use is the strength of their hands to me? all force is gone from them.

³They are wasted for need of food, biting the dry earth; their only hope of life is in the waste land.

⁴They are pulling off the salt leaves from the brushwood, and making a meal of roots.

⁵They are sent out from among their townsmen, men are crying after them as thieves

⁶They have to get a resting-place in the hollows of the valleys, in holes of the earth and rocks.

⁷They make noises like asses among the brushwood; they get together under the thorns.

⁸They are sons of shame, and of men without a name, who have been forced out of the land.

⁹And now I have become their song, and I am a word of shame to them.

¹⁰I am disgusting to them; they keep away from me, and put marks of shame on me.

¹¹For 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.

¹²The lines of his men of war put themselves in order, and make high their ways of destruction against me:

¹³They have made waste my roads, with a view to my destruction; his bowmen come round about me;

¹⁴As through a wide broken place in the wall they come on, I am overturned by the shock of their attack.

¹⁵Fears have come on me; my hope is gone like the wind, and my well-being like a cloud.

¹⁶But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:

¹⁷The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.

¹⁸With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.

¹⁹Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.

²⁰You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.

²¹You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.

²²Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.

²³For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.

²⁴Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?

²⁵Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?

²⁶For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.

²⁷My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.

²⁸I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.

²⁹I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.

³⁰My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.

³¹And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.

Job 30

¹"But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs.

²Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?

³They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.

⁴They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom are their food.

⁵They are driven out from the midst of men. They cry after them as after a thief;

⁶So that they dwell in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.

⁷Among the bushes they bray; and under the nettles they are gathered together.

⁸They are children of fools, yes, children of base men. They were flogged out of the land.

⁹"Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.

¹⁰They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and do not hesitate to spit in my face.

¹¹For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.

¹²On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction.

¹³They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, without anyone's help.

¹⁴As through a wide breach they come, in the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in.

¹⁵Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.

¹⁶"Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold on me.

¹⁷In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.

¹⁸By great force is my garment disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat.

¹⁹He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.

²⁰I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.

²¹You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.

²²You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.

²³For I know that you will bring me to death, To the house appointed for all living.

²⁴"However doesn't one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

²⁵Did I not weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy?

²⁶When I looked for good, then evil came; When I waited for light, there came darkness.

²⁷My heart is troubled, and doesn't rest. Days of affliction have come on me.

²⁸I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

²⁹I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.

³⁰My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.

³¹Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.