Rhyming Job, Chapter 3

Rhyming Job, Chapter 3

Then after this, out from his mouth, these poured,
Job’s curses for the day that he was born:

“Let that day perish, that one of my birth,
and too, the night that said: ‘A man’s conceived.’
That day, to darkness, black just like a hearse;
may God above, no thought of it, perceive,

“or cause the light to shine upon that day.
Let gloom claim it again, and darkness, deep;
May clouds drop, settle, blackness o’er it laid,
that day; that night—may darkness, thick, it, seize;

“may it be left from ‘mongst the days we count,
the calendar, nor, in the months, observed.
May it, that night, be barren; may no shouts
of joy be heard on it. May those who curse

“the sea, too, curse that day, whose central aim:
to rouse Leviathan. May they be dark,
its morning stars; fore’er it waits in vain
for daylight and won’t see dawn’s early sparks

“for it did not, the womb’s doors, shut on me;
the present trouble from my eyes, conceal.

“I ask now why, at birth, I didn’t die
and perish, when, the womb, I exited?
Why were there knees that for me, opened wide,
and breasts on which I nursed, was daily fed?

“For now I would be lying down in peace;
I would be sleeping, also, then, at rest
with kings and rulers of the earth, deceased;
their palaces, in ruins, they lie, distressed.

“with princes who had gold, with silver filled,
their houses. Why was I not hid away,
cast to the ground, just as a child, born, still-
an infant who ne’er saw the light of day?

“There where the wicked cease from troubling acts,
and also there, the weary, rest, enjoy.
The captives, slaves, they have their ease, relax;
no longer listen to the driver’s voice.

“The small and great are there, equality,
and there the slaves are from their owners, freed.

“To those in misery, why is light giv’n,
and life to those who’re bitter in their soul,
to those who long for death, it from them, driv’n,
who search for it more than for treasure, gold,

“they’re filled with gladness and their joy, convey,
when they achieve their final goal, the grave?
Why is life given to a man whose way
is hid from him, whom God’s hedged in, constrained?

“For sighing has become my daily food;
my groanings pour out like a water flow.
They’ve come on me, my deepest fears I knew,
the things I dreaded, first-hand, now, I know.

“No quietness of heart, I have no peace;
I have no rest, but only turmoil, feel.”