'Oh if only my grief were actually weighed And laid in the balances together with my disaster!
For then it would be heavier than the sand of the seas; For that reason my words have been rash.
For the arrows of the Almighty are within me, My spirit drinks their poison; The terrors of God line up against me.
Does the wild donkey bray over his
grass, Or does the ox low over his feed?
Can something tasteless be eaten without salt, Or is there any taste in the juice of an alkanet plant?
My soul refuses to touch them;
They are like loathsome food to me.
'Oh, that my request might come to pass, And that God would grant my hope!
that God would decide to crush me, That He would let loose His hand and cut me off!
But it is still my comfort, And I rejoice in unsparing pain, That I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
What is my strength, that I should wait? And what is my end, that I should endure?
Is my strength the strength of stones, Or is my flesh bronze?
Is it that my help is not within me, And that a good outcome is driven away from me?
'For the despairing man there should be
kindness from his friend; So that he does not abandon the fear of the Almighty.
My brothers have acted deceitfully like a wadi, Like the torrents of wadis which drain away,
Which are darkened because of ice, And
into which the snow melts.