If only I could return
to the days when God was my guardian;
when his fire blazed above me
and guided me through the dark—
to the days when I was in blossom
and God was a hedge around me;
when he hadn’t yet deserted me
and my children sat at my side;
when my feet were bathed in cream
and oil gushed from the rock.
As I walked to the square of the city
and took my seat of honor,
young men held their breath;
old men rose to their feet;
rich men stopped speaking
and put their fingers to their lips;
men of authority shuddered,
and their tongues stuck in their throats.
They listened to me in silence;
they clung to each of my words.
When I finished, they could not speak,
for my wisdom had showered upon them.
They thirsted for my speech like rain
and drank it as if they were dust.
My smile gave them courage;
my radiant face inspired them.
I sat before them in majesty,
like a king at the head of his troops.
All ears were filled with my praise;
every eye was my witness.
For I rescued the poor, the desperate,
those who had nowhere to turn.
I brought relief to the beggar
and joy to the widow’s heart.
Righteousness was my clothing,
justice my robe and turban.
I served as eyes for the blind,
hands and feet for the crippled.
To the destitute I was a father;
I fought for the stranger’s rights.
I broke the jaws of the wicked,
plucked the spoil from their teeth.
And I thought, “I will live many years,
growing as old as the palm tree.
My roots will be spread for water,
and the dew will rest on my boughs.”
And now I am jeered at by streetboys,
whose fathers I would have considered
unfit to take care of my dogs.
What were they but mongrels?
No one would have called them men.
Shriveled up with hunger,
they gnawed the desolate wasteland.
They picked leaves for their supper,
fed on branches and roots.
They were driven out from the cities,
shouted after like thieves,
to live out their days in the wilderness,
in caverns or under rocks.
They grunted together in the bushes
and copulated in the dust—
these misbegotten wretches,
these outcasts from the land of men.
And now I am their fool;
they snigger behind my back.
They stand beside me and sneer;
they walk up and spit in my face.
When they see me, frenzy takes them;
they turn into savage beasts.
They rush at me in a mob;
they raise siege-ramps against me.
They tear down my defenses;
they swarm over my wall.
They burst in at the breach
and come pouring through like a flood.
Terror rises before me;
my courage is blown like the wind;
like a cloud my hope is gone.
And now I am in agony;
the days of sorrow have caught me.
Pain pierces my skin;
suffering gnaws my bones.
Despair grips me by the neck,
shakes me by the collar of my coat.
You show me that I am clay
and make certain that I am dust.
I cry out, and you do not answer;
I am silent, and you do not care.
You look down at me with hatred
and lash me with all your might.
You toss me around in storm clouds,
straddle me on the wind.
And I know that you will destroy me
and lock me in the house of the dead.
Did- I ever strike down a beggar
when he called to me in distress?
Didn’t I weep for the wretched?
Didn’t I grieve for the poor?
Yet instead of good came evil,
and instead of light there was darkness.
My innards boil and clamor;
the days of suffering have caught me.
I despair and can find no comfort;
I stand up and cry for help.
I am brother to the wild jackal,
friend to the desert owl.
My flesh blackens and peels;
all my bones are on fire.
And my harp is tuned to mourning,
my flute to the sound of tears.
I made a pact with my eyes,
that I would not gaze at evil.
But what good has virtue done me?
How has God rewarded me?
Isn’t disgrace for sinners
and misery for the wicked?
Can’t he tell right from wrong
or keep his accounts in order?
If I ever held hands with malice
or my feet hurried to crime
(I will prove that I am innocent!
I will make him see with his eyes!)—
if my legs strayed from the path
or my heart followed my glance
or a stain clung to my palms—
let strangers eat what I sowed
and tear out my crop by the roots!
If my loins were seduced by a woman
and I loitered at my neighbor’s door—
let any man take my wife
and grind in between her thighs!
If I scorned the rights of my servant
or closed my ears to his plea—
what would I do if God appeared?
If he questioned me, what could I answer?
Didn’t the same God make us
and form us both in the womb?
If I ever neglected the poor
or made the innocent suffer;
if I ate my meals alone
and did not share with the hungry;
if I did not clothe the naked
or care for the ragged beggar;
if his body did not bless me
for the warmth of my sheep’s wool;
if I ever abused the helpless,
knowing that I could not be punished—
let my arm fall from my shoulder
and my elbow be ripped from its socket!
If my land cried out against me;
if its furrows saw me and wept;
if I took its fruits without paying
or caused its tenants to sigh—
let thorns grow instead of wheat
and thistles instead of barley!
If I ever trusted in silver
or pledged allegiance to gold;
if I ever boasted of my riches
or took any credit for my wealth;
if I saw the sun in its splendor
or the bright moon moving
and my heart was ever seduced
and I kissed my hand in worship;
if I laughed when my enemy fell
or rejoiced when suffering found him
or allowed my tongue to sin
by binding him in a curse;
if my servants ever spoke
an unkind word to a guest
(for I never shut out a stranger
or turned a traveler away);
if I ever covered my crimes
or buried my sins in my heart,
afraid of what people thought,
shivering behind my doors…
Oh if only God would hear me,
state his case against me,
let me read his indictment.
I would carry it on my shoulder
or wear it on my head like a crown.
I would justify the least of my actions;
I would stand before him like a prince.