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Young's Literal Version » Job » 21. fejezet
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And Job answereth and saith: --
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Hear ye diligently my word, And this is your consolation.
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Bear with me, and I speak, And after my speaking -- ye may deride.
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I -- to man `is' my complaint? and if `so', wherefore May not my temper become short?
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Turn unto me, and be astonished, And put hand to mouth.
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Yea, if I have remembered, then I have been troubled. And my flesh hath taken fright.
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Wherefore do the wicked live? They have become old, Yea, they have been mighty in wealth.
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Their seed is established, Before their face with them, And their offspring before their eyes.
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Their houses `are' peace without fear, Nor `is' a rod of God upon them.
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His bullock hath eaten corn, and doth not loath. His cow bringeth forth safely, And doth not miscarry.
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They send forth as a flock their sucklings, And their children skip,
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They lift `themselves' up at timbrel and harp, And rejoice at the sound of an organ.
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They wear out in good their days, And in a moment `to' Sheol go down.
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And they say to God, `Turn aside from us, And the knowledge of Thy ways We have not desired.
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What `is' the Mighty One that we serve Him? And what do we profit when we meet with Him?'
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Lo, not in their hand `is' their good, (The counsel of the wicked Hath been far from me.)
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How oft is the lamp of the wicked extinguished, And come on them doth their calamity? Pangs He apportioneth in His anger.
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They are as straw before wind, And as chaff a hurricane hath stolen away,
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God layeth up for his sons his sorrow, He giveth recompense unto him -- and he knoweth.
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His own eyes see his destruction, And of the wrath of the Mighty he drinketh.
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For what `is' his delight in his house after him, And the number of his months cut off?
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To God doth `one' teach knowledge, And He the high doth judge?
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This `one' dieth in his perfect strength, Wholly at ease and quiet.
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His breasts have been full of milk, And marrow his bones doth moisten.
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And this `one' dieth with a bitter soul, And have not eaten with gladness.
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Together -- on the dust they lie down, And the worm doth cover them over.
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Lo, I have known your thoughts, And the devices against me ye do wrongfully.
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For ye say, `Where `is' the house of the noble? And where the tent -- The tabernacles of the wicked?'
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Have ye not asked those passing by the way? And their signs do ye not know?
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That to a day of calamity is the wicked spared. To a day of wrath they are brought.
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Who doth declare to his face his way? And `for' that which he hath done, Who doth give recompence to him?
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And he -- to the graves he is brought. And over the heap a watch is kept.
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Sweet to him have been the clods of the valley, And after him every man he draweth, And before him there is no numbering.
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And how do ye comfort me `with' vanity, And in your answers hath been left trespass?