ਅੱਯੂਬ 30
1 ੧ ਪਰ ਹੁਣ ਉਹ ਜਿਹੜੇ ਮੈਥੋਂ ਛੋਟੇ ਹਨ ਉਹ ਮੇਰੇ ਉੱਤੇ ਹੱਸਦੇ ਹਨ, ਜਿਹਨਾਂ ਦੇ ਪੁਰਖਿਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਮੈਂ ਆਪਣੇ ਇੱਜੜ ਦੇ ਕੁੱਤਿਆਂ ਨਾਲ ਵੀ ਕੰਮ ਕਰਨ ਦੇ ਯੋਗ ਨਹੀਂ ਸਮਝਦਾ ਸੀ!
“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
3 ੩ ਥੁੜ ਅਤੇ ਭੁੱਖ ਦੇ ਕਾਰਨ ਉਹ ਲਿੱਸੇ ਪੈ ਗਏ ਹਨ, ਉਹ ਸੁੱਕੀ ਭੂਮੀ ਨੂੰ ਚੱਟਦੇ ਹਨ, ਜਿੱਥੇ ਉਜਾੜ ਤੇ ਬਰਬਾਦੀ ਦੀ ਧੁੰਦ ਹੈ।
They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.
They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,
so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.
They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.
“Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.
12 ੧੨ ਮੇਰੇ ਸੱਜੇ ਪਾਸੇ ਬਜ਼ਾਰੂ ਲੋਕ ਉੱਠਦੇ ਹਨ, ਉਹ ਮੇਰੇ ਪੈਰ ਸਰਕਾ ਦਿੰਦੇ ਹਨ, ਅਤੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਨਾਸ ਕਰਨ ਵਾਲੇ ਰਾਹਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਬਣਾਉਂਦੇ ਹਨ।
On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.
They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.
As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
15 ੧੫ ਭੈਅ ਮੇਰੇ ਉੱਤੇ ਮੁੜ ਪੈਂਦੇ, ਮੇਰੀ ਪਤ ਜਿਵੇਂ ਹਵਾ ਨਾਲ ਉਡਾਈ ਜਾਂਦੀ, ਅਤੇ ਮੇਰੀ ਖੁਸ਼ਹਾਲੀ ਬੱਦਲ ਵਾਂਗੂੰ ਜਾਂਦੀ ਰਹੀ।
Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
“Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.
20 ੨੦ ਮੈਂ ਤੇਰੇ ਵੱਲ ਦੁਹਾਈ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਪਰ ਤੂੰ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਉੱਤਰ ਨਹੀਂ ਦਿੰਦਾ, ਮੈਂ ਖੜ੍ਹਾ ਹੁੰਦਾ ਹਾਂ ਪਰ ਤੂੰ ਸਿਰਫ਼ ਮੇਰੇ ਵੱਲ ਝਾਕਦਾ ਹੈਂ।
I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.
You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.
You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.
23 ੨੩ ਕਿਉਂ ਜੋ ਮੈਂ ਜਾਣਦਾ ਹਾਂ ਕਿ ਤੂੰ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਮੌਤ ਤੱਕ ਪਹੁੰਚਾਵੇਂਗਾ, ਅਤੇ ਉਸ ਵਾਸ ਤੱਕ ਜਿਹੜਾ ਸਾਰੇ ਜੀਉਂਦਿਆਂ ਲਈ ਠਹਿਰਾਇਆ ਗਿਆ ਹੈ।
For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.
“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.
My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.
I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.
My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.
Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
