Hiob 30 | New International Version

1 ‘But now they mock me, men younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to put with my sheep dogs. 2 Of what use was the strength of their hands to me, since their vigour had gone from them? 3 Haggard from want and hunger, they roamed* the parched land in desolate wastelands at night. 4 In the brush they gathered salt herbs, and their food* was the root of the broom bush. 5 They were banished from human society, shouted at as if they were thieves. 6 They were forced to live in the dry stream beds, among the rocks and in holes in the ground. 7 They brayed among the bushes and huddled in the undergrowth. 8 A base and nameless brood, they were driven out of the land. 9 ‘And now those young men mock me in song; I have become a byword among them. 10 They detest me and keep their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. 11 Now that God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they throw off restraint in my presence. 12 On my right the tribe* attacks; they lay snares for my feet, they build their siege ramps against me. 13 They break up my road; they succeed in destroying me. “No-one can help him,” they say. 14 They advance as through a gaping breach; amid the ruins they come rolling in. 15 Terrors overwhelm me; my dignity is driven away as by the wind, my safety vanishes like a cloud. 16 ‘And now my life ebbs away; days of suffering grip me. 17 Night pierces my bones; my gnawing pains never rest. 18 In his great power God becomes like clothing to me*; he binds me like the neck of my garment. 19 He throws me into the mud, and I am reduced to dust and ashes. 20 ‘I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer; I stand up, but you merely look at me. 21 You turn on me ruthlessly; with the might of your hand you attack me. 22 You snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm. 23 I know you will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living. 24 ‘Surely no-one lays a hand on a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. 25 Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor? 26 Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. 27 The churning inside me never stops; days of suffering confront me. 28 I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. 29 I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of owls. 30 My skin grows black and peels; my body burns with fever. 31 My lyre is tuned to mourning, and my pipe to the sound of wailing.

English Standard Version

1 “But now they laugh at me, men who are younger than I, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock. 2 What could I gain from the strength of their hands, men whose vigor is gone? 3 Through want and hard hunger they gnaw the dry ground by night in waste and desolation; 4 they pick saltwort and the leaves of bushes, and the roots of the broom tree for their food.* 5 They are driven out from human company; they shout after them as after a thief. 6 In the gullies of the torrents they must dwell, in holes of the earth and of the rocks. 7 Among the bushes they bray; under the nettles they huddle together. 8 A senseless, a nameless brood, they have been whipped out of the land. 9 “And now I have become their song; I am a byword to them. 10 They abhor me; they keep aloof from me; they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of me. 11 Because God has loosed my cord and humbled me, they have cast off restraint* in my presence. 12 On my right hand the rabble rise; they push away my feet; they cast up against me their ways of destruction. 13 They break up my path; they promote my calamity; they need no one to help them. 14 As through a wide breach they come; amid the crash they roll on. 15 Terrors are turned upon me; my honor is pursued as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed away like a cloud. 16 “And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction have taken hold of me. 17 The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest. 18 With great force my garment is disfigured; it binds me about like the collar of my tunic. 19 God* has cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. 20 I cry to you for help and you do not answer me; I stand, and you only look at me. 21 You have turned cruel to me; with the might of your hand you persecute me. 22 You lift me up on the wind; you make me ride on it, and you toss me about in the roar of the storm. 23 For I know that you will bring me to death and to the house appointed for all living. 24 “Yet does not one in a heap of ruins stretch out his hand, and in his disaster cry for help?* 25 Did not I weep for him whose day was hard? Was not my soul grieved for the needy? 26 But when I hoped for good, evil came, and when I waited for light, darkness came. 27 My inward parts are in turmoil and never still; days of affliction come to meet me. 28 I go about darkened, but not by the sun; I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. 29 I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. 30 My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn with heat. 31 My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.

Hiob 30 | New International Version English Standard Version