Chapter 30

 But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I would have disdained to set with the dogs of my flock. 

 Yea, whereto [should] the strength of their hands [profit] me, [men] in whom vigour hath perished? 

 Withered up through want and hunger, they flee into waste places long since desolate and desert: 

 They gather the salt-wort among the bushes, and the roots of the broom for their food. 

 They are driven forth from among [men] -- they cry after them as after a thief -- 

 To dwell in gloomy gorges, in caves of the earth and the rocks: 

 They bray among the bushes; under the brambles they are gathered together: 

 Sons of fools, and sons of nameless sires, they are driven out of the land. 

 And now I am their song, yea, I am their byword. 

 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, yea, they spare not to spit in my face. 

 For he hath loosed my cord and afflicted me; so they cast off the bridle before me. 

 At [my] right hand rise the young brood; they push away my feet, and raise up against me their pernicious ways; 

 They mar my path, they set forward my calamity, without any to help them; 

 They come in as through a wide breach: amid the confusion they roll themselves onward. 

 Terrors are turned against me; they pursue mine honour as the wind; and my welfare is passed away like a cloud. 

 And now my soul is poured out in me; days of affliction have taken hold upon me. 

 The night pierceth through my bones [and detacheth them] from me, and my gnawing pains take no rest: 

 By their great force they have become my raiment; they bind me about as the collar of my coat. 

 He hath cast me into the mire, and I have become like dust and ashes. 

 I cry unto thee, and thou answerest me not; I stand up, and thou lookest at me. 

 Thou art changed to a cruel one to me; with the strength of thy hand thou pursuest me. 

 Thou liftest me up to the wind; thou causest me to be borne away, and dissolvest my substance. 

 For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and into the house of assemblage for all living. 

 Indeed, no prayer [availeth] when he stretcheth out [his] hand: though they cry when he destroyeth. 

 Did not I weep for him whose days were hard? was not my soul grieved for the needy? 

 For I expected good, and there came evil; and I waited for light, but there came darkness. 

 My bowels well up, and rest not; days of affliction have confronted me. 

 I go about blackened, but not by the sun; I stand up, I cry in the congregation. 

 I am become a brother to jackals, and a companion of ostriches. 

 My skin is become black [and falleth] off me, and my bones are parched with heat. 

 My harp also is [turned] to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of weepers.