The Book of Job

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- Kapitel 30 -

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

What use to me was the strength of their hands, since their vigor had left them?

Gaunt from poverty and hunger, they gnawed the dry land, and the desolate wasteland by night.

They plucked mallow among the shrubs, and the roots of the broom tree were their food.(a)

They were banished from among men, shouted down like thieves,

so that they lived on the slopes of the wadis, among the rocks and in holes in the ground.

They cried out among the shrubs and huddled beneath the nettles.

A senseless and nameless brood, they were driven off the land.

And now they mock me in song; I have become a byword among them.

They abhor me and keep far from me; they do not hesitate to spit in my face.

Because God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they have cast off restraint (b) in my presence.

The rabble arises at my right; they lay snares for my feet and build siege ramps against me.

They tear up my path; they profit from my destruction, with no one to restrain them.(c)

They advance as through a wide breach; through the ruins they keep rolling in.

Terrors are turned loose against me; they drive away my dignity as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed like a cloud.

And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction grip me.

Night pierces my bones, and my gnawing pains never rest.

With great force He grasps my garment;(d) He seizes me by the collar of my tunic.

He throws me into the mud, and I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer; when I stand up, You merely look at me.

You have ruthlessly turned on me; You oppose me with Your strong hand.

You snatch me up into the wind and drive me before it; You toss me about

(e)

in the storm.

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

Yet no one stretches out his hand to a ruined man when he cries for help in his distress.

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

But when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, darkness fell.

I am churning within and cannot rest; days of affliction confront me.

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

I have become a brother of jackals,(f) a companion of ostriches.(g)

My skin grows black and peels, and my bones burn with fever.

My harp is tuned to mourning and my flute to the sound of weeping.

Fußnoten

(a)30:4 Or their fuel

(b)30:11 Hebrew the bridle

(d)30:18 LXX; Hebrew He becomes like a garment to me or my garment is disfigured

(e)30:22 Or You dissolve me

(f)30:29 Or serpents or dragons

(g)30:29 Literally of daughters of an ostrich or of daughters of an owl

“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.

Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?

They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.

They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.

They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,

so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.

They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.

They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.

“Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.

They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.

For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.

On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.

They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.

As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.

Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.

“Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.

In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.

My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.

He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.

I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.

You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.

You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.

For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.

“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?

Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?

When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.

My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.

I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.

I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.

My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.

Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.