Job 30

“But now they mock me,
    men younger than I,
whose fathers I would have disdained
    to put with my sheep dogs.

أَمَّا الآنَ فَقَدْ هَزَأَ بِي مَنْ هُمْ أَصْغَرُ مِنِّي سِنّاً، مَنْ كُنْتُ آنَفُ أَنْ أَجْعَلَ آبَاءَهُمْ مَعَ كِلابِ غَنَمِي.

Of what use was the strength of their hands to me,
    since their vigor had gone from them?

إِذْ مَا جَدْوَى قُوَّةِ أَيْدِيهِمْ لِي بَعْدَ أَنْ أُصِيبَتْ بِعَجْزٍ؟

Haggard from want and hunger,
    they roamed^[a] the parched land
    in desolate wastelands at night.

يَهِيمُونَ هُزَالَى جِيَاعاً، يَنْبِشُونَ الْيَابِسَةَ الْخَرِبَةَ الْمَهْجُورَةَ.

In the brush they gathered salt herbs,
    and their food^[b] was the root of the broom bush.

يَلْتَقِطُونَ الْخُبَّيْزَةَ بَيْنَ الْعُلَّيْقِ، وَخُبْزُهُمْ عُرُوقُ الرَّتَمِ.

They were banished from human society,
    shouted at as if they were thieves.

يُطْرَدُونَ مِنْ بَيْنِ النَّاسِ، وَيَصْرُخُونَ خَلْفَهُمْ كَمَا يَصْرُخُونَ عَلَى لِصٍّ.

They were forced to live in the dry stream beds,
    among the rocks and in holes in the ground.

يُقِيمُونَ فِي كُهُوفِ الْوِدْيَانِ الْجَافَّةِ، بَيْنَ الصُّخُورِ وَفِي ثُقُوبِ الأَرْضِ.

They brayed among the bushes
    and huddled in the undergrowth.

يَنْهَقُونَ بَيْنَ الْعُلَّيْقِ، وَيرْبِضُونَ تَحْتَ الْعَوْسَجِ.

A base and nameless brood,
    they were driven out of the land.

هُمْ حَمْقَى، أَبْنَاءُ قَوْمٍ خَامِلِينَ مَنْبُوذِينَ مِنَ الأَرْضِ.

“And now those young men mock me in song;
    I have become a byword among them.

أَمَّا الآنَ فَقَدْ أَصْبَحْتُ مَثَارَ سُخْرِيَةٍ لَهُمْ وَمَثَلاً يَتَنَدَّرُونَ بِهِ

They detest me and keep their distance;
    they do not hesitate to spit in my face.

يَشْمَئِزُّونَ مِنِّي وَيَتَجَافَوْنَنِي، لَا يَتَوَانَوْنَ عَنِ الْبَصْقِ فِي وَجْهِي!

Now that God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me,
    they throw off restraint in my presence.

لأَنَّ اللهَ قَدْ أَرْخَى وَتَرَ قَوْسِي وَأَذَلَّنِي، انْقَلَبُوا ضِدِّي بِكُلِّ قُوَّتِهِمْ.

On my right the tribe^[c] attacks;
    they lay snares for my feet,
    they build their siege ramps against me.

قَامَ صِغَارُهُمْ عَنْ يَمِينِي يُزِلُّونَ قَدَمِي وَيُمَهِّدُونَ سُبُلَ دَمَارِي.

They break up my road;
    they succeed in destroying me.
    ‘No one can help him,’ they say.

سَدُّوا عَلَيَّ مَنْفَذَ مَهْرَبِي، وَتَضَافَرُوا عَلَى هَلاكِي، مِنْ غَيْرِ أَنْ يَكُونَ لِي مُعِينٌ.

They advance as through a gaping breach;
    amid the ruins they come rolling in.

وَكَأَنَّمَا مِنْ ثُغْرَةٍ وَاسِعَةٍ تَدَافَعُوا نَحْوِي، وَانْدَفَعُوا هَاجِمِينَ بَيْنَ الرَّدْمِ.

Terrors overwhelm me;
    my dignity is driven away as by the wind,
    my safety vanishes like a cloud.

طَغَتْ عَلَيَّ الأَهْوَالُ، فَتَطَايَرَتْ كَرَامَتِي كَوَرَقَةٍ أَمَامَ الرِّيحِ، وَمَضَى رَغْدِي كَالسَّحَابِ.

“And now my life ebbs away;
    days of suffering grip me.

وَالآنَ تَهَافَتَتْ نَفْسِي عَلَيَّ وَتَنَاهَبَتْنِي أَيَّامُ بُؤْسِي.

Night pierces my bones;
    my gnawing pains never rest.

يَنْخَرُ اللَّيْلُ عِظَامِي، وَآلامِي الضَّارِيَةُ لَا تَهْجَعُ.

In his great power God becomes like clothing to me^[d];
    he binds me like the neck of my garment.

تَشُدُّ بِعُنْفٍ لِبَاسِي وَتَحْزِمُنِي مِثْلَ طَوْقِ عَبَاءَتِي.

He throws me into the mud,
    and I am reduced to dust and ashes.

قَدْ طَرَحَنِي اللهُ فِي الْحَمْأَةِ فَأَشْبَهْتُ التُّرَابَ وَالرَّمَادَ.

“I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer;
    I stand up, but you merely look at me.

أَسْتَغِيثُ بِكَ فَلا تَسْتَجِيبُ، وَأَقِفُ أَمَامَكَ فَلا تَأْبَهُ بِي.

You turn on me ruthlessly;
    with the might of your hand you attack me.

أَصْبَحْتَ لِي عَدُوّاً قَاسِياً، وَبِقُدْرَةِ ذِرَاعِكَ تَضْطَهِدُنِي.

You snatch me up and drive me before the wind;
    you toss me about in the storm.

خَطَفْتَنِي وَأَرْكَبْتَنِي عَلَى الرِّيحِ، تُذِيبُنِي فِي زَئِيرِ الْعَاصِفَةِ.

I know you will bring me down to death,
    to the place appointed for all the living.

فَأَيْقَنْتُ أَنَّكَ تَسُوقُنِي إِلَى الْمَوْتِ، وَإِلَى دَارِ مِيعَادِ كُلِّ حَيٍّ.

“Surely no one lays a hand on a broken man
    when he cries for help in his distress.

وَلَكِنْ، أَلا يَمُدُّ إِنْسَانٌ يَدَهُ مِنْ تَحْتِ الأَنْقَاضِ؟ أَوَ لَا يَسْتَغِيثُ فِي بَلِيَّتِهِ؟

Have I not wept for those in trouble?
    Has not my soul grieved for the poor?

أَلَمْ أَبْكِ لِمَنْ قَسَى عَلَيْهِ يَوْمُهُ؟ أَلَمْ تَحْزَنْ نَفْسِي لِلْمِسْكِينِ؟

Yet when I hoped for good, evil came;
    when I looked for light, then came darkness.

وَلَكِنْ حِينَ تَرَقَّبْتُ الْخَيْرَ أَقْبَلَ الشَّرُّ، وَحِينَ تَوَقَّعْتُ النُّورَ هَجَمَ الظَّلامُ.

The churning inside me never stops;
    days of suffering confront me.

قَلْبِي يَغْلِي وَلَنْ يَهْدَأَ، وَأَيَّامُ الْبَلِيَّةِ غَشِيَتْنِي.

I go about blackened, but not by the sun;
    I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.

فَأَمْضِي نَائِحاً لَكِنْ مِنْ غَيْرِ عَزَاءٍ. أَقِفُ بَيْنَ النَّاسِ أَطْلُبُ الْعَوْنَ.

I have become a brother of jackals,
    a companion of owls.

صِرْتُ أَخاً لِبَنَاتِ آوَى، وَرَفِيقاً لِلنَّعَامِ.

My skin grows black and peels;
    my body burns with fever.

اسْوَدَّ جِلْدِي عَلَيَّ وَتَقَشَّرَ، وَاحْتَرَقَتْ عِظَامِي مِنَ الْحُمَّى

My lyre is tuned to mourning,
    and my pipe to the sound of wailing.