JOB.
Chapter 30.
“But now those who are younger than I am laugh at me. I didn’t think their fathers were fit to sit with the dogs of my flock. 
Of what use to me was the strength of their hands? Their strength is gone. 
Shriveled up from need and hunger, they gnaw at the dry and barren ground during the night. 
They pick saltwort from the underbrush, and the roots of the broom plant are their food. 
They are driven from the community. People shout at them in the same way they shout at thieves. 
They have to live in dry riverbeds, in holes in the ground, and among rocks. 
They howl in bushes and huddle together under thornbushes. 
Godless fools and worthless people are forced out of the land with whips. 
“And now they make fun of me with songs. I have become a joke to them. 
Since they consider me disgusting, they keep their distance from me and don’t hesitate to spit in my face. 
Because God has untied my cord and has made me suffer, they are no longer restrained in my presence. 
They have attacked me on my right side like a mob. They trip my feet and then prepare ways to destroy me. 
Yes, they remove all traces of my path in order to destroy me. No one is there to help me against them. 
They come through a wide hole ⌞in the wall⌟. They crawl through the ruins. 
Terrors are directed toward me. They blow away my dignity like the wind. My prosperity vanishes like a cloud. 
“Now my life is pouring out of me. Days of suffering seize me. 
At night God pierces my bones. My body doesn’t rest. 
With great strength he grabs my clothes. He seizes me by the collar of my robe. 
He throws me into the dirt so that I become like dust and ashes. 
“I call to you for help, but you don’t answer me. I stand up, but you just look at me. 
You have begun to treat me cruelly. With your mighty hand you assault me. 
You pick me up and let the wind carry me away. You toss me around with a storm. 
I know you will lead me to death, to the dwelling place appointed for all living beings. 
“But God doesn’t stretch out his hand against one who is ruined when that person calls for help in his disaster. 
Didn’t I cry for the person whose days were difficult? Didn’t my soul grieve for the poor? 
When I waited for good, evil came. When I looked for light, darkness came. 
My insides are churning and won’t calm down. Days of misery are ahead of me. 
I walk in the dark without the sun. I stand up in public and call for help. 
I’m a brother to jackals and a companion of ostriches. 
My skin turns dark and peels. My body burns with fever. 
So my lyre is used for mourning and my flute for loud weeping. 
