Job 30 · איוב

But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to have set with the dogs of my flock.

Indeed what could I gain from the strength of their hands, in whom the stock has perished?

For want and famine they are solitary; they flee into the wilderness, into a gloomy waste and desolation.

They cut up mallows by the bushes, and roots of broom for warmth.

They are driven forth from among men, (they cry after them as after a thief;)

to dwell in the clefts of the wadis, in holes of the earth, and in the rocks.

Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they huddle together.

They are children of churls, yea, children of base men: they are whipped out of the land.

And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword.

They abhor me, they flee far from me, and spare not to spit in my face.

Because he has loosed my cord, and afflicted me, they have also cast off restraint before me.

Upon my right hand rise the youthful rabble; they push away my feet, and they raise up against me the ways of their destruction.

They mar my path, they further my calamity; they have no need for help.

They come upon me as through a wide breach: amid the crash they roll on.

Terrors are turned upon me: my dignity is pursued as by the wind: and my welfare passes away as a cloud.

And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold of me.

My bones are pierced in me in the night season: and my sinews take no rest.

By the great force of my disease is my skin changed: it binds me about as the collar of my coat.

He has cast me into the mire, and I am become like dust and ashes.

I cry to Thee, and Thou dost not answer me: I stand up, dost Thou then regard me?

Thou art become cruel to me: with Thy strong hand Thou opposest Thyself against me.

Thou liftest me up to the wind; Thou causest me to ride upon it, and the roar of the storm dissolves me.

For I know that Thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house appointed for all living.

Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand? and in his disaster cry for help?

Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? was not my soul grieved for the poor?

But when I looked for good, then evil came: and when I waited for light, there came darkness.

My bowels are in turmoil, and they do not rest: days of affliction have came upon me.

I go mourning without the sun: I stand up, and I cry in the congregation.

I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to owls.

My skin hangs down black from me, and my bones are burned with heat.

Therefore my lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.