3
Job speaks
1After this, Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth. 2He said:
3‘May the day of my birth perish,
and the night that said, “A boy is conceived!”
4That day – may it turn to darkness;
may God above not care about it;
may no light shine on it.
5May gloom and utter darkness claim it once more;
may a cloud settle over it;
may blackness overwhelm it.
6That night – may thick darkness seize it;
may it not be included among the days of the year
nor be entered in any of the months.
7May that night be barren;
may no shout of joy be heard in it.
8May those who curse days#Or curse the sea curse that day,
those who are ready to rouse Leviathan.
9May its morning stars become dark;
may it wait for daylight in vain
and not see the first rays of dawn,
10for it did not shut the doors of the womb on me
to hide trouble from my eyes.
11‘Why did I not perish at birth,
and die as I came from the womb?
12Why were there knees to receive me
and breasts that I might be nursed?
13For now I would be lying down in peace;
I would be asleep and at rest
14with kings and rulers of the earth,
who built for themselves places now lying in ruins,
15with princes who had gold,
who filled their houses with silver.
16Or why was I not hidden away in the ground like a stillborn child,
like an infant who never saw the light of day?
17There the wicked cease from turmoil,
and there the weary are at rest.
18Captives also enjoy their ease;
they no longer hear the slave driver’s shout.
19The small and the great are there,
and the slaves are freed from their owners.
20‘Why is light given to those in misery,
and life to the bitter of soul,
21to those who long for death that does not come,
who search for it more than for hidden treasure,
22who are filled with gladness
and rejoice when they reach the grave?
23Why is life given to a man
whose way is hidden,
whom God has hedged in?
24For sighing has become my daily food;
my groans pour out like water.
25What I feared has come upon me;
what I dreaded has happened to me.
26I have no peace, no quietness;
I have no rest, but only turmoil.’
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