These words will perhaps upset you;
but I cannot hold back my thoughts.
Once you encouraged the timid
and filled the frightened with strength.
You brought relief to the comfortless,
gave the desperate hope.
But now it is your turn, you tremble;
now you are the victim, you shudder.
Have you lost all faith in your piety,
all hope in your perfect conduct?
Can an innocent man be punished?
Can a good man die in distress?
I have seen the plowers of evil
reaping the crimes they sowed.
One breath from God and they shrivel up;
one blast of his rage and they burn.
The lion may roar with fury,
but his teeth are cracked in his mouth.
The jackal howls and goes hungry;
the wolf is driven away.
Now a word, in secret, came to me,
a whisper crept in my ear,
at night, when visions flash
and ecstasy grips the mind.
Terror caught me; panic
shook my bones like sticks.
Something breathed on my face;
my hair stood stiff.
I could barely see —a spirit—
hovering on my chest—
a soft voice, speaking:
How can man be righteous?
How can mortals be pure?
If God distrusts his own servants
and charges the angels with sin,
what of those who are built of clay
and live in bodies of dust?
They are snapped like bits of straw;
their lives are blown out like candles .. .
they vanish, and who can save them?
Call now: will anyone answer?
To which of the angels will you turn?
For anger destroys the fool,
and passion flays the ignorant.
I have seen the fool rooted up,
his house collapsing in ruins,
his children stripped naked
with no one to help or pity them,
the hungry devouring his harvest,
the thirsty gulping his wine.
For pain does not spring from the dust
or sorrow sprout from the soil:
man is the father of sorrow,
as surely as sparks fly upward.
If I were you, I would pray;
I would put my case before God.
His workings are vast and fathomless,
his wonders beyond our grasp.
He lifts up the despised
and leads the abandoned to safety.
He traps the wise in their cleverness
and ruins the plots of the cunning.
By day they stumble in shadows;
at noon they grope in the dark.
But he plucks the poor from danger
and the meek from the power of wrong.
Then there is hope for the wretched,
and wickedness shuts its mouth.
You are lucky that God has scolded you;
so take his lesson to heart.
For he wounds, but then binds up;
he injures, but then he heals.
When disaster strikes, he will rescue you
and never let evil touch you.
In war he will save you from bloodshed,
in famine from the grip of death.
When slander roams he will hide you;
you will laugh in calamity’s face.
In league with the stones of the field,
in concord with savage beasts,
you will know that your house is protected
and your meadows safe from harm.
You will see your family multiply,
your children flourish like grass.
You will die at the height of your powers
and be gathered like ripened grain.
I know that these things are true:
consider them now, and learn.
If ever my grief were measured
or my sorrow put on a scale,
it would outweigh the sands of the ocean:
that is why I am desperate.
For God has ringed me with terrors,
and his arrows have pierced my heart.
When a donkey has grass, does he bray?
Does an ox low near his fodder?
Can gruel be eaten unsalted?
Is there taste in the white of an egg?
My lips refuse to touch it;
my heart is sickened at its sight.
If only my prayer were answered
and God granted my wish.
If only he made an end of me,
snipping my life like a thread.
That is my only comfort
as I writhe in this savage pain.
How long can I keep on waiting?
Why should I stay alive?
Is my body hard as a rock?
Is my flesh made of brass?
All my strength has left me;
all hope has been driven away.
My friends are streams that go dry,
riverbeds in the desert.
In spring they are dark with ice,
swollen with melted snow.
But when summer comes they are gone;
they vanish in the blazing heat.
Pilgrims search for them everywhere
and lose their way in the dust.
They wander dazed, panting;
their tongues parch and turn black.
You too have turned against me;
my wretchedness fills you with fear.
Have I ever asked you to help me
or begged you to pay my ransom,
to rescue me from an enemy
or save me from an oppressor?
Teach me, and I will be silent;
show me where I am wrong.
Does honest speech offend you?
Are you shocked by what I have said?
Do you want to disprove my passion
or argue away my despair?
Look me straight in the eye:
is this how a liar would face you?
Can’t I tell right from wrong?
If I sinned, wouldn’t I know it?
Man’s life is a prison;
he is sentenced to pain and grief.
Like a slave he pants for the shadows;
like a servant he longs for rest.
Each day I live seems endless,
and I suffer through endless nights.
When I lie down, I long for morning;
when I get up, I long for evening;
all day I toss and turn.
My flesh crawls with maggots;
my skin cracks and oozes.
My days fly past me like a shuttle,
and my hope snaps like a thread.
Remember: life is a breath;
soon I will vanish from your sight.
The eye that looks will not see me;
you may search, but I will be gone.
Like a cloud fading in the sky,
man dissolves into death.
He leaves the whole world behind him
and never comes home again.
Therefore I refuse to be quiet;
I will cry out my bitter despair.
Am I the Sea or the Serpent,
that you pen me behind a wall?
If I say, “Sleep will comfort me,
I will lie down to ease my pain,”
then you terrify me with visions,
your nightmares choke me with horror,
and I wake up gasping for breath,
longing to be dead at last.
I will not live forever;
leave me, for my days are wind.
What is man, that you notice him,
turn your glare upon him,
examine him every morning,
test him at every instant?
Won’t you even give me
time to swallow my spit?
If I sinned, what have I done
to you, Watcher of Men?
Why have you made me your target
and burdened me with myself?
Can’t you forgive my sins
or overlook my mistakes?
For soon I will lie in the dust;
you will call, but I will be gone.
How long will you go on ranting,
filling our ears with trash?
Does God make straightness crooked
or turn truth upside down?
Your children must have been evil:
he punished them for their crimes.
But if you are pure and righteous
and pray to God for mercy,
surely he will answer your prayer
and fulfill your greatest desires.
Your past will seem like a trifle,
so blessed will your future be.
Go learn from the wisdom of the ages;
listen to the patriarchs’ words.
For we are small and ignorant;
our days on earth are a shadow.
But their advice will guide you,
and their answers will give you peace.
Can papyrus grow without water?
Can a reed flourish in sand?
As crisp and fresh as it looked,
it wilts like a blade of grass.
Such is the fate of the impious,
the empty hope of the sinner.
His peace of mind is gossamer;
his faith is a spider’s web.
Though he props up his house, it collapses;
though he builds it again, it falls.
But the righteous blossom in sunlight,
and the garden is filled with their seeds.
Their roots twine around stones
and fasten even to rocks.
If they are plucked from the ground,
rooted up from their soil,
they rejoice wherever they go
and bloom again from the dust.
God never betrays the innocent
or takes the hand of the wicked.
He will yet fill your mouth with laughter,
and joy will burst from your lips.
Your enemies will drown in their shame,
and the wind will blow through their houses.
I know that this is true:
no man can argue with God
or answer even one
of a thousand accusations.
However wise or powerful—
who could oppose him and live?
He levels cliffs in an instant,
rooting them up in his rage;
he knocks the earth from its platform
and shakes the pillars of the sky;
he talks to the sun—it darkens;
he clamps a seal on the stars.
He alone stretched out the heavens
and trampled the heights of the sea;
he made the Bear and the Hunter,
the Scorpion, the Twins.
His workings are vast and fathomless,
his wonders beyond my grasp.
If he passed me, I would not see him;
if he went by, I would not know.
If he seized me, who could stop him
or cry out, “What are you doing?”
He will never hold back his fury;
the Dragon lies at his feet.
How then can I refute him
or marshal my words against him?
How can I prove my innocence?
Do I have to beg him for mercy?
If I testify, will he answer?
Is he listening to my plea?
He has punished me for a trifle;
for no reason he gashes my flesh.
He makes me gasp with terror;
he plunges me into despair.
For in strength, he is far beyond me;
and in eloquence, who is like him?
I am guiltless, but his mouth condemns me;
blameless, but his words convict me.
He does not care; so I say
he murders both the pure and the wicked.
When the plague brings sudden death,
he laughs at the anguish of the innocent.
He hands the earth to the wicked
and blindfolds its judges’ eyes.
Who does it, if not he?
My days sprint past me like runners;
I will never see them again.
They glide by me like sailboats;
they swoop down like hawks on their prey.
If I want to forget my misery
or try to smile at my pain,
one thought makes me shudder:
that you don’t believe what I say.
If I am already guilty,
why should I struggle on?
Should I wash my body in snow,
scour my face with sand?
You would toss me into a cesspool,
and my own stench would make me vomit.
If only there were an arbiter
who could lay his hand on us both,
who could make you put down your club
and hold back your terrible arm.
Then, without fear, I would say,
You have not treated me justly.
I loathe each day of my life;
I will take my complaint to God.
I will say, Do not condemn me;
why are you so enraged?
Is it right for you to be vicious,
to spoil what your own hands made?
Are your eyes mere eyes of flesh?
Is your vision no keener than a man’s?
Is your mind like a human mind?
Are your feelings human feelings?
For you keep pursuing a sin,
trying to dig up a crime,
though you know that I am innocent
and cannot escape from your grip.
Your hands molded and made me,
and someday you will destroy me.
Remember: you formed me from clay
and will soon turn me back to dust.
You poured me out like milk,
made me curdle like cheese,
clothed me in flesh and skin,
knit me with bones and sinews.
You loved me, you gave me life,
you nursed and cared for my spirit.
Yet this you hid in your heart,
this I know was your purpose:
to watch me, and if ever I sinned
to punish me for the rest of my days.
You lash me if I am guilty,
shame me if I am not.
You set me free, then trap me,
like a cat toying with a mouse.
Why did you let me be born?
Why couldn’t I have stayed
in the deep waters of the womb,
rocked to sleep in the dark?
Is my life not wretched enough?
Leave me one moment of peace,
before I must go away
to the land of endless shadows,
the land of gloom and sighing,
where dawn is as black as night.
Should this man be saved by his words,
acquitted because he speaks well?
Should you mouth us into submission
and go on with your impudent lies?
You say, “My conscience is clear”;
you think that your life is spotless.
But if God were to cross-examine you
and turned up your hidden motives
and presented his case against you
and told you why he has punished you—
you would know that your guilt is great.
How can you understand God
or fathom his endless wisdom?
It is higher than heaven—an you reach it?,
deeper than hell—can you touch it?,
wider than all the earth,
broader than the breadth of the sea.
If he seizes and casts in prison
and condemns—who can stop him?
For he knows that you are a sinner;
he sees and judges your crimes.
But a stupid man will be wise
when a cow gives birth to a zebra.
Come now, repent of your sins;
open your heart to God.
Wash your hands of their wickedness;
banish crime from your door.
Then your soul will be pure;
your heart will be firm and fearless.
All your suffering will vanish,
flowing away like a stream.
Your life will shine like the sun;
your darkest day will be bright.
Your faith will be unshakable;
your mind will be strong and serene.
No one will dare to disturb you;
many will seek your favor.
But the wicked will all be punished;
they will live in constant terror;
their hope will become a noose.
You, it seems, know everything;
perfect wisdom is yours.
But I am not an idiot:
who does not know such things?
Even the animals will tell you,
and the birds in the sky will teach you.
Any plant will instruct you;
go learn from the fish in the sea.
Which of them does not know
that God created all things?
In his hand is the soul of all beings
and the spirit of every man.
Doesn’t the mind understand
as simply as the tongue tastes?
Do all men grow in knowledge?
Are they wise because they are old?
Only God is wise;
knowledge is his alone.
He tears down—no man can build;
he imprisons—o man can free.
He holds back the rain—there is drought;
he pours it—t floods the earth.
Power belongs to him only;
deceived and deceiver are his.
He turns great lords into morons,
priests into driveling fools.
He pushes kings off their thrones
and knocks the crown from their heads.
He strips the wise of their reason
and makes the eloquent mute.
He pours contempt on princes
and crushes the high and haughty.
He puffs up nations and wrecks them,
blotting them out in their pride.
He drives great rulers insane
and drops them alone in the wilderness.
They grope about in the dark,
staggering as if they were drunk.
All this I have seen with my own eyes;
my own ears have heard these things.
What you know, I know also;
my mind is as clear as yours.
But I want to speak before God,
to present my case in God’s court.
For you smear my wounds with ignorance
and patch my body with lies.
Don’t you have any sense?
Will you never shut your mouths?
Listen now to my arguments;
hear out my accusations.
Will you lie to vindicate God?
Will you perjure yourselves for him?
Will you blindly stand on his side,
pleading his case alone?
What will you do when he questions you?
Can you cheat him as you would a man?
Won’t he judge you severely
if your testimony is false?
Won’t he crush you with terror
and chill your bones with fear?
Your answers are dusty answers;
your words crumble like clay.
Be quiet now—let me speak;
whatever happens will happen.
I will take my flesh in my teeth,
hold my life in my hands.
He may kill me, but I won’t stop;
I will speak the truth, to his face.
Listen now to my words;
pay attention to what I say.
For I have prepared my defense,
and I know that I am right.
Grant me one thing only,
and I will not hide from your face:
do not numb me with fear
or flood my heart with your terror.
Accuse me —I will respond;
or let me speak, and answer me.
What crime have I committed?
How have I sinned against you?
Why do you hide your face
as if I were your enemy?
Will you frighten a withered leaf
or hunt down a piece of straw?
For you count up all my errors
and convict me for the sins of my youth.
You put my legs in shackles;
you brand the soles of my feet;
you follow my every step.
Man who is born of woman—
how few and harsh are his days!
Like a flower he blooms and withers;
like a shadow he fades in the dark.
He falls apart like a wine-skin,
like a garment chewed by moths.
And must you take notice of him?
Must you call him to account?
Since all his days are determined
and the sum of his years is set—
look away; leave him alone;
grant him peace, for one moment.
Even if it is cut down,
a tree can return to life.
Though its roots decay in the ground
and its stump grows old and rotten,
it will bud at the scent of water
and bloom as if it were young.
But man is cut down forever;
he dies, and where is he then?
The lake is drained of its water,
the river becomes a ditch,
and man will not rise again
while the sky is above the earth.
If only you would hide me in the pit
till your anger has passed away,
then come to me and release me.
All my days in prison
I would sit and wait for that time.
You would call me —I would answer;
you would come to me and rejoice,
delighting in my smallest step
like a father watching his child.
But cliffs fall to the ground;
boulders crumble away;
mountains are turned to dust;
and you destroy man’s hope.
You crush him into the ground,
send him away disfigured.
If his sons are honored, does he know?
If his daughters are shamed, does he care?
Only his own flesh hurts him,
and he mourns for himself alone.