Chapter 6

  And Job answereth and saith: --  

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  O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!  

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  For now, than the sands of the sea it is heavier, Therefore my words have been rash.  

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  For arrows of the Mighty [are] with me, Whose poison is drinking up my spirit. Terrors of God array themselves [for] me!  

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  Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?  

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  Eaten is an insipid thing without salt? Is there sense in the drivel of dreams?  

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  My soul is refusing to touch! They [are] as my sickening food.  

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  O that my request may come, That God may grant my hope!  

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  That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!  

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  And yet it is my comfort, (And I exult in pain -- He doth not spare,) That I have not hidden The sayings of the Holy One.  

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  What [is] my power that I should hope? And what mine end That I should prolong my life?  

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  Is my strength the strength of stones? Is my flesh brazen?  

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  Is not my help with me, And substance driven from me?  

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  To a despiser of his friends [is] shame, And the fear of the Mighty he forsaketh.  

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  My brethren have deceived as a brook, As a stream of brooks they pass away.  

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  That are black because of ice, By them doth snow hide itself.  

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  By the time they are warm they have been cut off, By its being hot they have been Extinguished from their place.  

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  Turn aside do the paths of their way, They ascend into emptiness, and are lost.  

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  Passengers of Tema looked expectingly, Travellers of Sheba hoped for them.  

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  They were ashamed that one hath trusted, They have come unto it and are confounded.  

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  Surely now ye have become the same! Ye see a downfall, and are afraid.  

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  Is it because I said, Give to me? And, By your power bribe for me?  

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  And, Deliver me from the hand of an adversary? And, From the hand of terrible ones ransom me?  

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  Shew me, and I -- I keep silent, And what I have erred, let me understand.  

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  How powerful have been upright sayings, And what doth reproof from you reprove?  

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  For reproof -- do you reckon words? And for wind -- sayings of the desperate.  

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  Anger on the fatherless ye cause to fall, And are strange to your friend.  

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  And, now, please, look upon me, Even to your face do I lie?  

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  Turn back, I pray you, let it not be perverseness, Yea, turn back again -- my righteousness [is] in it.  

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  Is there in my tongue perverseness? Discerneth not my palate desirable things?  

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