Then Job spoke out saying:

                If indeed my anguish could be weighed,

                                Placed with all my calamity on the scales,

They would out weight the sad of the seas,

                No wonder my words have been impetuous.

For the barbs of the Almighty have pierced me,

                My spirit drinks in their poison,

                                The terrors of God are arrayed against me.

Does the wild ass bray over its grass,

                Does the ox bellow over its fodder?

Can that which is unsavory be eaten without salt,

                Is there flavor in the oozing egg white?

My souls refuses to touch them,

                They are as the sickness of my flesh.

Oh, that I might have my wish,

                That God would grant my hope.

That it would please God to crush me,

                To loose His hand and cut me off.

Then I would yet have this consolation:

                Although He has not spared me from anguish,

I would leap up in joy,

                That I have never denied the commands of the Holy One.

What strength have I, to go on hoping,

What end, that I should be patient?

Is my strength the strength of stone?

                Is my flesh bronze?

Indeed, the is no help for me,

                Effective aid has been cut off from me.

He who pleads for kindness from his fellow man,

                Has forsaken the reverence due the Almighty.

My companions betray me as the wadi, the desert stream.

                Like the channel of a brook run dry.

They grow dark with ice,

                Vanish beneath heaps of snow.

In the warm season, they disappear,

                When it is hot, they vanish from their place.

Their paths twist and turn,

                Wander into the void, and vanish.

The caravans of Tema had looked to them,

                The travelers of Sheba had hoped for them.

Disappointed, because they had hoped,

                They reached them, finding shame.

Now you have become like the stream,

                You see my calamity, fear overtakes you.

Have I ever said, give something on my behalf,

                With your wealth, pay a ransom for me,

Deliver me from the enemy’s clutches,

                Ransom me from the oppressor’s hand?

Teach me, I shall be silent,

                Where I have erred, make me understand.

How powerful are words of truth,

                Yet, what can you arguing prove?

Do you regard your empty words as proof,

                But as mere wind, a despairing man’s speech?

You would cast lots over an orphan,

                And haggle over your companion.

But now, pray, turn toward me,

                You may turn away if I should lie.

Comeback, there is no wrong in me,

Comeback, my integrity is intact.

Is there error on my tongue,

                Cannot my palate discern falsehood?