## Job Curses the Day of His Birth 

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Afterward Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his _birth_. 

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And Job answered and said, 

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"Let the day perish on which I was to be born, And the night _which_ said, 'A man is conceived.' 

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May that day be darkness; Let not God seek it from above, Nor light shine on it. 

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Let darkness and shadow of death redeem it; Let a cloud dwell upon it; Let the blackness of the day terrify it. 

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_As for_ that night, let thick darkness take it; Let it not rejoice among the days of the year; Let it not come into the number of the months. 

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Behold, let that night be barren; Let no joyful shout enter it. 

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Let those curse it who curse the day, Who are ready to rouse Leviathan. 

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Let the stars of its twilight be darkened; Let it hope for light but have none, And let it not see the breaking dawn, 

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Because it did not shut the opening of my _mother's_ body, Or hide trouble from my eyes. 

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"Why did I not die from the womb, Come forth from the womb and breathe my last? 

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Why did the knees receive me, And why the breasts, that I should suck? 

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For now I would have lain down and been quiet; I would have slept then; it would have been rest to me, 

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With kings and _with_ counselors of the earth, Who rebuilt waste places for themselves, 

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Or with princes who had gold, Who were filling their houses _with_ silver. 

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Or _why_ was I not like a miscarriage hidden away, As infants that never saw light? 

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There the wicked cease from raging, And there the weary of strength are at rest. 

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The prisoners are at ease together; They do not hear the voice of the taskmaster. 

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The small and the great are there, And the slave is free from his master. 

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"Why is light given to him who is troubled, And life to the bitter of soul, 

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Who long for death, but there is none, And dig for it more than for hidden treasures, 

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Who are glad with joy, _And_ rejoice when they find the grave? 

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_Why is light given_ to a man whose way is hidden, And whom God has hedged in? 

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For my groaning comes at the sight of my food, And my roaring pours out like water. 

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For the dread that I dread comes upon me, And what I am afraid of befalls me. 

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I am not complacent, nor am I quiet, And I am not at rest, and raging comes."