And Job answereth and saith: --
Truly I have known that it is so, And what -- is man righteous with God?
If he delight to strive with Him -- He doth not answer him one of a thousand.
Wise in heart and strong in power -- Who hath hardened toward Him and is at peace?
Who is removing mountains, And they have not known, Who hath overturned them in His anger.
Who is shaking earth from its place, And its pillars move themselves.
Who is speaking to the sun, and it riseth not, And the stars He sealeth up.
Stretching out the heavens by Himself, And treading on the heights of the sea,
Making Osh, Kesil, and Kimah, And the inner chambers of the south.
Doing great things till there is no searching, And wonderful, till there is no numbering.
Lo, He goeth over by me, and I see not, And He passeth on, and I attend not to it.
Lo, He snatches away, who bringeth it back? Who saith unto Him, 'What dost Thou?'
God doth not turn back His anger, Under Him bowed have proud helpers.
How much less do I -- I answer Him? Choose out my words with Him?
Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.
Though I had called and He answereth me, I do not believe that He giveth ear to my voice.
Because with a tempest He bruiseth me, And hath multiplied my wounds for nought.
He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.
If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment -- who doth convene me?
If I be righteous, Mine mouth doth declare me wicked, Perfect I am! -- it declareth me perverse.
Perfect I am! -- I know not my soul, I despise my life.
It is the same thing, therefore I said, 'The perfect and the wicked He is consuming.'
If a scourge doth put to death suddenly, At the trial of the innocent He laugheth.
Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not -- where, who is he?
My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,
They have passed on with ships of reed, As an eagle darteth on food.
Though I say, 'I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'
I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.
I -- I am become wicked; why is this? In vain I labour.
If I have washed myself with snow-water, And purified with soap my hands,
Then in corruption Thou dost dip me, And my garments have abominated me.
But if a man like myself -- I answer him, We come together into judgment.
If there were between us an umpire, He doth place his hand on us both.
He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,
I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.