And now they laugh at me
1And now they laugh at me, men younger in days than I am, whose fathers I would not have set with the dogs of my flock. 2And the strength of their hands — what use was that to me? In them all vigor had perished. 3Gaunt with want and hunger, they flee to the dry ground, to waste and desolation of the night before. 4They pick saltwort among the bushes, and the root of the broom tree is their bread. 5They are driven out from among people; men shout after them as after a thief. 6They have to live in the dread of the ravines, in holes in the ground and among the rocks. 7Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they huddle together. 8Sons of fools, sons without a name, beaten out of the land. 9And now I am their song; I have become a word in their mouths. 10They loathe me and keep their distance, and they do not hold back from spitting in my face. 11Because he has loosed my cord and brought me low, they have thrown off all restraint in front of me.* 12On my right the brood rises up. They shove my feet away and pile up their siege ramps against me. 13They tear up my path; they profit from my ruin, and they need no one to help them. 14They come on like a wide breach; under the crash of it they roll on. 15Terrors are turned loose on me. My dignity is chased off like the wind, and my deliverance passes like a cloud.
And now my soul pours itself out
16And now my soul pours itself out on me; days of affliction have taken hold of me. 17At night my bones are pierced through, and the pains that gnaw me never lie down. 18With great force my garment is disfigured; it grips me like the collar of my tunic. 19He has thrown me into the mud, and I have become like dust and ashes. 20I cry to you and you do not answer me; I stand up, and you only stare at me. 21You have turned cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you hunt me down. 22You lift me to the wind and set me riding it, and you melt away my substance.* 23For I know you will bring me back to death, to the house appointed for all the living. 24Surely no one strikes at a heap of ruins if in his downfall he cries out for help. 25Did I not weep for the one whose day was hard? Was my soul not grieved for the needy?
I hoped for good, and evil came
26But when I hoped for good, evil came; when I waited for light, darkness came. 27My insides boil and never settle; days of affliction have come out to meet me. 28I go about blackened, with no sun on me. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. 29I have become a brother to jackals and a companion to ostriches. 30My skin turns black and peels off me, and my bones burn with fever. 31My lyre has turned to mourning, and my pipe to the sound of weeping.
Notes
- 30:11 — The Hebrew is written “his cord” — Eloah drawing his bow against Job — and read “my cord”, Job’s own, loosed from him so that his strength gives out. ZARZA follows the reading, as it does throughout; the two readings reverse the image.
- 30:22 — The Hebrew is written “in the storm” and read “soundness”, so that what melts away is Job’s good sense. ZARZA follows the reading, as it does throughout.
