Job

JOB’S MONOLOGUE: LAMENTATION

He Curses the Day and the Night

Finally, it was Job who spoke, cursing the day he was born.

This is what he said:

Cursed be the day I was born, and the night that whispered: A boy has been conceived.

May that day be dark, may God on high ignore it. May no light shine upon it.

May the shadow of death claim it as its own. May a cloud settle over it; may darkness obstruct its light.

Let darkness swallow that night let it not add to the rest of the year let it not be included in the month.

That night—oh, let it be barren, untouched by shouts of joy.

Let it be cursed by those who hate the light, sorcerers who call on the Devil.

Let its morning stars no longer shine; let it wait for the light in vain and never see the first rays of dawn,

since it did not close the womb to keep my eyes from seeing doom.

Longing for Death

Why didn’t I die at birth, or emerge from the womb without breath?

Why the knees that supported me, why the breasts that nourished me?

For then I would have fallen asleep and rested,

with kings and rulers of the earth who built lonely tombs for themselves;

or with princes who had spare gold and houses filled with silver.

Why was I not stillborn, like others who never saw the light of dawn?

There, the trouble of the wicked ends, there, the weary find repose.

There, the prisoners are at ease; they no longer hear the taskmaster’s voice.

Great and small are equal there, where the slave is free from his master.

Deliver Me from God!

Why is light granted to the miserable, and life to the embittered?

To those who long for death more than hidden treasure?

They rejoice at the sight of their end, they are happy upon reaching the grave.

Why give light to a man whose path has disappeared, whose ways God barriers at every turn?

Instead of bread, I feed on sighs. My groans are like water pouring out.

What I feared has come upon me, and what I dreaded has befallen me.

I find no rest, no ease; only turmoil, nothing of peace!