Job 7
1 Has not man his ordered time of trouble on the earth? and are not his days like the days of a servant working for payment?
[Militia est vita hominis super terram, et sicut dies mercenarii dies ejus.
2 As a servant desiring the shades of evening, and a workman looking for his payment:
Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius præstolatur finem operis sui,
3 So I have for my heritage months of pain to no purpose, and nights of weariness are given to me.
sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi.
4 When I go to my bed, I say, When will it be time to get up? but the night is long, and I am turning from side to side till morning light.
Si dormiero, dicam: Quando consurgam? et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras.
5 My flesh is covered with worms and dust; my skin gets hard and then is cracked again.
Induta est caro mea putredine, et sordibus pulveris cutis mea aruit et contracta est.
6 My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
Dies mei velocius transierunt quam a texente tela succiditur, et consumpti sunt absque ulla spe.
7 O, keep in mind that my life is wind: my eye will never again see good.
Memento quia ventus est vita mea, et non revertetur oculus meus ut videat bona.
8 The eye of him who sees me will see me no longer: your eyes will be looking for me, but I will be gone.
Nec aspiciet me visus hominis; oculi tui in me, et non subsistam.
9 A cloud comes to an end and is gone; so he who goes down into the underworld comes not up again. (Sheol h7585)
Sicut consumitur nubes, et pertransit, sic qui descenderit ad inferos, non ascendet. (Sheol h7585)
10 He will not come back to his house, and his place will have no more knowledge of him.
Nec revertetur ultra in domum suam, neque cognoscet eum amplius locus ejus.
11 So I will not keep my mouth shut; I will let the words come from it in the pain of my spirit, my soul will make a bitter outcry.
Quapropter et ego non parcam ori meo: loquar in tribulatione spiritus mei; confabulabor cum amaritudine animæ meæ.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-beast, that you put a watch over me?
Numquid mare ego sum, aut cetus, quia circumdedisti me carcere?
13 When I say, In my bed I will have comfort, there I will get rest from my disease;
Si dixero: Consolabitur me lectulus meus, et relevabor loquens mecum in strato meo:
14 Then you send dreams to me, and visions of fear;
terrebis me per somnia, et per visiones horrore concuties.
15 So that a hard death seems better to my soul than my pains.
Quam ob rem elegit suspendium anima mea, et mortem ossa mea.
16 I have no desire for life, I would not be living for ever! Keep away from me, for my days are as a breath.
Desperavi: nequaquam ultra jam vivam: parce mihi, nihil enim sunt dies mei.
17 What is man, that you have made him great, and that your attention is fixed on him,
Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum? aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?
18 And that your hand is on him every morning, and that you are testing him every minute?
Visitas eum diluculo, et subito probas illum.
19 How long will it be before your eyes are turned away from me, so that I may have a minute's breathing-space?
Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me ut glutiam salivam meam?
20 If I have done wrong, what have I done to you, O keeper of men? why have you made me a mark for your blows, so that I am a weariness to myself?
Peccavi; quid faciam tibi, o custos hominum? quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetipsi gravis?
21 And why do you not take away my sin, and let my wrongdoing be ended? for now I go down to the dust, and you will be searching for me with care, but I will be gone.
Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam? ecce nunc in pulvere dormiam, et si mane me quæsieris, non subsistam.]
