Job 30
1 But now people much younger than me laugh at me; people whose fathers I would not put to work with my sheepdogs.
2 They are too weak to be any use to me; they're all worn-out.
3 Thin through hunger and want, they try to eat the dry ground in the dark, desolate wilderness.
4 There they pick desert herbs and the leaves of bushes, and eat the roots of broom trees.
5 They were driven out of the community.
6 People shouted after them as if they were thieves. They have to live in dangerous ravines, in caves and among the rocks.
7 They shout out like animals among the bushes; they huddle together in the weeds for shelter.
8 They are foolish, nameless people that have been driven from the land.
9 Yet now they mock me in their songs; I have become a joke to them!
10 They despise and shun me; they don't hesitate to spit in my face.
11 God has made my bowstring loose and humbled me.
12 The rabble rise up against me, they send me running; like a city under siege they devise ways to destroy me.
13 They cut off my way of escape; they bring about my downfall and do this without anyone's help.
14 They come in through a wide breach; they rush in as the wall comes tumbling down.
15 Terrors overcome me; my honor is blown away by the wind; my salvation vanishes like a cloud.
16 And now my life is ebbing away; every day despair grips me.
17 At night my bones are in agony; the pain gnaws at me and never stops.
18 God grabs me roughly by my clothes; he pulls me by the collar of my shirt.
19 He has thrown me in the mud; he has humbled me like dust and ashes.
20 God, I cry to you but you don't answer; I stand before you, but you don't even notice me.
21 You have turned cruel to me; you use your power to make me suffer.
22 You pick me up and blow me along in the wind; tossing me about in the whirlwind.
23 I know you're taking me to my death, to the place where all the living go.
24 Who would want to kick a man when he is down, when they cry for help in their time of trouble?
25 Didn't I weep for those having hard times? Didn't I grieve at what the poor suffered?
26 But when I looked for good, only evil came, and when I waited for the light, all that came was darkness.
27 Inside I am in turmoil, it never stops; I face days of despair.
28 I am so depressed; seeing the sun doesn't help. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 I am like a brother to the jackals, a companion to owls.
30 My skin turns black on me; and my bones burn within me.
31 My lyre only plays sad songs, and my pipe is the voice of those who weep.