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Thursday, January 24, 2019
The Books of Poetry
And Eliphaz the Temanite answereth and saith: --
Doth a wise man answer [with] vain knowledge? And fill [with] an east wind his belly?
To reason with a word not useful? And speeches -- no profit in them?
Yea, thou dost make reverence void, And dost diminish meditation before God.
For thy mouth teacheth thine iniquity, And thou chooseth the tongue of the subtile.
Thy mouth declareth thee wicked, and not I, And thy lips testify against thee.
The first man art thou born? And before the heights wast thou formed?
Of the secret counsel of God dost thou hear? And withdrawest thou unto thee wisdom?
What hast thou known, and we know not? Understandest thou -- and it is not with us?
Both the gray-headed And the very aged [are] among us -- Greater than thy father [in] days.
Too few for thee are the comforts of God? And a gentle word [is] with thee,
What -- doth thine heart take thee away? And what -- are thine eyes high?
For thou turnest against God thy spirit? And hast brought out words from thy mouth:
What [is] man that he is pure, And that he is righteous, one born of woman?
Lo, in His holy ones He putteth no credence, And the heavens have not been pure in His eyes.
Also -- surely abominable and filthy Is man drinking as water perverseness.
I shew thee -- hearken to me -- And this I have seen and declare:
Which the wise declare -- And have not hid -- from their fathers.
To them alone was the land given, And a stranger passed not over into their midst:
`All days of the wicked he is paining himself, And few years have been laid up for the terrible one.
A fearful voice [is] in his ears, In peace doth a destroyer come to him.
He believeth not to return from darkness, And watched [is] he for the sword.
He is wandering for bread -- `Where [is] it?' He hath known that ready at his hand Is a day of darkness.
Terrify him do adversity and distress, They prevail over him As a king ready for a boaster.
For he stretched out against God his hand, And against the Mighty he maketh himself mighty.
He runneth unto Him with a neck, With thick bosses of his shields.
For he hath covered his face with his fat, And maketh vigour over [his] confidence.
And he inhabiteth cities cut off, houses not dwelt in, That have been ready to become heaps.
He is not rich, nor doth his wealth rise, Nor doth he stretch out on earth their continuance.
He turneth not aside from darkness, His tender branch doth a flame dry up, And he turneth aside at the breath of His mouth!
Let him not put credence in vanity, He hath been deceived, For vanity is his recompence.
Not in his day is it completed, And his bending branch is not green.
He shaketh off as a vine his unripe fruit, And casteth off as an olive his blossom.
For the company of the profane [is] gloomy, And fire hath consumed tents of bribery.
To conceive misery, and to bear iniquity, Even their heart doth prepare deceit.
And Job answereth and saith: --
I have heard many such things, Miserable comforters [are] ye all.
Is there an end to words of wind? Or what doth embolden thee that thou answerest?
I also, like you, might speak, If your soul were in my soul's stead. I might join against you with words, And nod at you with my head.
I might harden you with my mouth, And the moving of my lips might be sparing.
If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease -- what goeth from me?
Only, now, it hath wearied me; Thou hast desolated all my company,
And Thou dost loathe me, For a witness it hath been, And rise up against me doth my failure, In my face it testifieth.
His anger hath torn, and he hateth me, He hath gnashed at me with his teeth, My adversary sharpeneth his eyes for me.
They have gaped on me with their mouth, In reproach they have smitten my cheeks, Together against me they set themselves.
God shutteth me up unto the perverse, And to the hands of the wicked turneth me over.
At ease I have been, and he breaketh me, And he hath laid hold on my neck, And he breaketh me in pieces, And he raiseth me to him for a mark.
Go round against me do his archers. He splitteth my reins, and spareth not, He poureth out to the earth my gall.
He breaketh me -- breach upon breach, He runneth upon me as a mighty one.
Sackcloth I have sewed on my skin, And have rolled in the dust my horn.
My face is foul with weeping, And on mine eyelids [is] death-shade.
Not for violence in my hands, And my prayer [is] pure.
O earth, do not thou cover my blood! And let there not be a place for my cry.
Also, now, lo, in the heavens [is] my witness, And my testifier in the high places.
My interpreter [is] my friend, Unto God hath mine eye dropped:
And he reasoneth for a man with God, And a son of man for his friend.
When a few years do come, Then a path I return not do I go.
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