Job's Complaint to God
1 Finally Job broke the silence and cursed the day on which he had been born.
2-3 O God, put a curse on the day I was born;
put a curse on the night when I was conceived!
4Turn that day into darkness, God.
Never again remember that day;
never again let light shine on it.
5Make it a day of gloom and thick darkness;
cover it with clouds, and blot out the sun.
6Blot that night out of the year,
and never let it be counted again;
7make it a barren, joyless night.
8Tell the sorcerers to curse that day,
those who know how to control Leviathan.
9Keep the morning star from shining;
give that night no hope of dawn.
10Curse that night for letting me be born,
for exposing me to trouble and grief.
11I wish I had died in my mother's womb
or died the moment I was born.
12Why did my mother hold me on her knees?
Why did she feed me at her breast?
13If I had died then, I would be at rest now,
14sleeping like the kings and rulers
who rebuilt ancient palaces.
15Then I would be sleeping like princes
who filled their houses with gold and silver,
16or sleeping like a stillborn child.
17In the grave wicked people stop their evil,
and tired workers find rest at last.
18Even prisoners enjoy peace,
free from shouts and harsh commands.
19Everyone is there, the famous and the unknown,
and slaves at last are free.
20Why let people go on living in misery?
Why give light to those in grief
21 They wait for death, but it never comes;
they prefer a grave to any treasure.
22They are not happy till they are dead and buried;
23God keeps their future hidden
and hems them in on every side.
24Instead of eating, I mourn,
and I can never stop groaning.
25Everything I fear and dread comes true.
26I have no peace, no rest,
and my troubles never end.