Ijob 7

1The life of man upon earth is a warfare, and his days are like the days of a hireling.

2As a servant longeth for the shade, as the hireling looketh for the end of his work;

3So I also have had empty months, and have numbered to myself wearisome nights.

4If I lie down to sleep, I shall say: When shall arise? and again I shall look for the evening, and shall be filled with sorrows even till darkness.

5My flesh is clothed with rottenness and the filth of dust, my skin is withered and drawn together.

6My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver, and are consumed without any hope.

7Remember that my life is but wind, and my eyes shall not return to see good things.

8Nor shall the sight of man behold me: thy eyes are upon me, and I shall be no more.

9As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up.

10Nor shall he return my more into his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

11Wherefore I will not spare my month, I will speak in the affliction of my spirit: I will talk with the bitterness of my soul.

12Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou hast enclosed me in a prison?

13If I say: My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be relieved speaking with myself on my couch:

14Thou wilt frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions.

15So that my soul rather chooseth hanging, and my bones death.

16I have done with hope, I shall now live no longer: spare me, for my days are nothing.

17What is a man that thou shouldst magnify him? or why dost thou set thy heart upon him?

18Thou visitest him early in the morning, and thou provest him suddenly.

19How long wilt thou not spare me, nor suffer me to swallow down my spittle?

20I have sinned: what shall I do to thee, O keeper of men? why hast thou set me opposite to thee, and I am become burdensome to myself?

21Why dost thou not remove my sin, and why dost thou not take away my iniquity? Behold now I shall sleep in the dust: and if thou seek me in the morning, I shall not be.

1[Militia est vita hominis super terram, et sicut dies mercenarii dies ejus.

2Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius præstolatur finem operis sui,

3sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi.

4Si dormiero, dicam: Quando consurgam? et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras.

5Induta est caro mea putredine, et sordibus pulveris cutis mea aruit et contracta est.

6Dies mei velocius transierunt quam a texente tela succiditur, et consumpti sunt absque ulla spe.

7Memento quia ventus est vita mea, et non revertetur oculus meus ut videat bona.

8Nec aspiciet me visus hominis; oculi tui in me, et non subsistam.

9Sicut consumitur nubes, et pertransit, sic qui descenderit ad inferos, non ascendet.

10Nec revertetur ultra in domum suam, neque cognoscet eum amplius locus ejus.

11Quapropter et ego non parcam ori meo: loquar in tribulatione spiritus mei; confabulabor cum amaritudine animæ meæ.

12Numquid mare ego sum, aut cetus, quia circumdedisti me carcere?

13Si dixero: Consolabitur me lectulus meus, et relevabor loquens mecum in strato meo:

14terrebis me per somnia, et per visiones horrore concuties.

15Quam ob rem elegit suspendium anima mea, et mortem ossa mea.

16Desperavi: nequaquam ultra jam vivam: parce mihi, nihil enim sunt dies mei.

17Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum? aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?

18Visitas eum diluculo, et subito probas illum.

19Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me ut glutiam salivam meam?

20Peccavi; quid faciam tibi, o custos hominum? quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetipsi gravis?

21Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam? ecce nunc in pulvere dormiam, et si mane me quæsieris, non subsistam.]

1The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.

2Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,

3so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.

4If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness.

5My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.

6My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.

7Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.

8Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.

9Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend.

10He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.

11And because of this, I will not restrain my mouth. I will speak in the affliction of my spirit. I will converse from the bitterness of my soul.

12Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?

13If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”

14then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,

15so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.

16I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.

17What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?

18You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.

19How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?

20I have sinned; what should I do for you, O keeper of men? Why have you set me against you, so that I have become burdensome even to myself?

21Why do you not steal away my sin, and why do you not sweep away my iniquity? Behold, now I will sleep in the dust, and if you seek me in the morning, I will not remain.