Job 7
1 “Isn’t a man forced to labor on earth? Aren’t his days like the days of a hired hand?
Militia est vita hominis super terram, et sicut dies mercenarii dies ejus.
2 As a servant who earnestly desires the shadow, as a hireling who looks for his wages,
Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius præstolatur finem operis sui,
3 so I am made to possess months of misery, wearisome nights are appointed to me.
sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi.
4 When I lie down, I say, ‘When will I arise, and the night be gone?’ I toss and turn until the dawning of the day.
Si dormiero, dicam: Quando consurgam? et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust. My skin closes up, and breaks out afresh.
Induta est caro mea putredine, et sordibus pulveris cutis mea aruit et contracta est.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope.
Dies mei velocius transierunt quam a texente tela succiditur, et consumpti sunt absque ulla spe.
7 Oh remember that my life is a breath. My eye will no more 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 more. Your eyes will be on me, but I will not be.
Nec aspiciet me visus hominis; oculi tui in me, et non subsistam.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away, so he who goes down to Sheol will come up no more. (Sheol h7585)
Sicut consumitur nubes, et pertransit, sic qui descenderit ad inferos, non ascendet. (Sheol h7585)
10 He will return no more to his house, neither will his place know him any more.
Nec revertetur ultra in domum suam, neque cognoscet eum amplius locus ejus.
11 “Therefore I will not keep silent. I will speak in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
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 monster, that you put a guard over me?
Numquid mare ego sum, aut cetus, quia circumdedisti me carcere?
13 When I say, ‘My bed will comfort me. My couch will ease my complaint,’
Si dixero: Consolabitur me lectulus meus, et relevabor loquens mecum in strato meo:
14 then you scare me with dreams and terrify me through visions,
terrebis me per somnia, et per visiones horrore concuties.
15 so that my soul chooses strangling, death rather than my bones.
Quam ob rem elegit suspendium anima mea, et mortem ossa mea.
16 I loathe my life. I don’t want to live forever. Leave me alone, for my days are but a breath.
Desperavi: nequaquam ultra jam vivam: parce mihi, nihil enim sunt dies mei.
17 What is man, that you should magnify him, that you should set your mind on him,
Quid est homo, quia magnificas eum? aut quid apponis erga eum cor tuum?
18 that you should visit him every morning, and test him every moment?
Visitas eum diluculo, et subito probas illum.
19 How long will you not look away from me, nor leave me alone until I swallow down my spittle?
Usquequo non parcis mihi, nec dimittis me ut glutiam salivam meam?
20 If I have sinned, what do I do to you, you watcher of men? Why have you set me as a mark for you, so that I am a burden to myself?
Peccavi; quid faciam tibi, o custos hominum? quare posuisti me contrarium tibi, et factus sum mihimetipsi gravis?
21 Why do you not pardon my disobedience, and take away my iniquity? For now will I lie down in the dust. You will seek me diligently, but I will not be.”
Cur non tollis peccatum meum, et quare non aufers iniquitatem meam? ecce nunc in pulvere dormiam, et si mane me quæsieris, non subsistam.
