Job's First Speech
Blot Out the Day of My Birth
1 Finally, Job cursed the day
of his birth
2 by saying to God:
3 Blot out the day of my birth
and the night when my parents
created a son.
4 Forget about that day,
cover it with darkness,
5 and send thick, gloomy shadows
to fill it with dread.
6 Erase that night from the calendar
and conceal it with darkness.
7 Don't let children be created
or joyful shouts be heard
ever again in that night.
8 Let those with magic powers
place a curse on that day.
9 Darken its morning stars
and remove all hope of light,
10 because it let me be born
into a world of trouble.
Why Didn't I Die at Birth?
11 Why didn't I die at birth?
12 Why was I accepted
and allowed to nurse
at my mother's breast?
13 Now I would be at peace
in the silent world below
14 with kings and their advisors
whose palaces lie in ruins,
15 and with rulers once rich
with silver and gold.
16 I wish I had been born dead
and then buried, never to see
the light of day.
17 In the world of the dead,
the wicked and the weary rest
without a worry.
* 18 Everyone is there—
19 where captives and slaves
are free at last.
Why Does God Let Me Live?
20 Why does God let me live
when life is miserable
and so bitter?
21 I keep longing for death
more than I would seek
a valuable treasure.
22 Nothing could make me happier
than to be in the grave.
23 Why do I go on living
when God has me surrounded,
and I can't see the road?
24 Moaning and groaning
are my food and drink,
25 and my worst fears
have all come true.
26 I have no peace or rest—
only troubles and worries.
Job's Complaint to God
1 Finally Job broke the silence and cursed the day on which he had been born.
Job
2-3 O God, put a curse on the day I was born;
put a curse on the night when I was conceived!
4 Turn that day into darkness, God.
Never again remember that day;
never again let light shine on it.
5 Make it a day of gloom and thick darkness;
cover it with clouds, and blot out the sun.
6 Blot that night out of the year,
and never let it be counted again;
7 make it a barren, joyless night.
8 Tell the sorcerers to curse that day,
those who know how to control Leviathan.
9 Keep the morning star from shining;
give that night no hope of dawn.
10 Curse that night for letting me be born,
for exposing me to trouble and grief.
11 I wish I had died in my mother's womb
or died the moment I was born.
12 Why did my mother hold me on her knees?
Why did she feed me at her breast?
13 If I had died then, I would be at rest now,
14 sleeping like the kings and rulers
who rebuilt ancient palaces.
15 Then I would be sleeping like princes
who filled their houses with gold and silver,
16 or sleeping like a stillborn child.
17 In the grave wicked people stop their evil,
and tired workers find rest at last.
18 Even prisoners enjoy peace,
free from shouts and harsh commands.
19 Everyone is there, the famous and the unknown,
and slaves at last are free.
20 Why let people go on living in misery?
Why give light to those in grief
21 They wait for death, but it never comes;
they prefer a grave to any treasure.
22 They are not happy till they are dead and buried;
23 God keeps their future hidden
and hems them in on every side.
24 Instead of eating, I mourn,
and I can never stop groaning.
25 Everything I fear and dread comes true.
26 I have no peace, no rest,
and my troubles never end.