[1] Finally Job broke the silence and cursed the day on which he had been born. [2] O God, put a curse on the day I was born; put a curse on the night when I was conceived! [4] Turn that day into darkness, God. Never again remember that day; never again let light shine on it. [5] Make it a day of gloom and thick darkness; cover it with clouds, and blot out the sun. [6] Blot that night out of the year, and never let it be counted again; [7] make it a barren, joyless night. [8] Tell the sorcerers to curse that day, those who know how to control Leviathan. [9] Keep the morning star from shining; give that night no hope of dawn. [10] Curse that night for letting me be born, for exposing me to trouble and grief. [11] I wish I had died in my mother's womb or died the moment I was born. [12] Why did my mother hold me on her knees? Why did she feed me at her breast? [13] If I had died then, I would be at rest now, [14] sleeping like the kings and rulers who rebuilt ancient palaces. [15] Then I would be sleeping like princes who filled their houses with gold and silver, [16] or sleeping like a stillborn child. [17] In the grave wicked people stop their evil, and tired workers find rest at last. [18] Even prisoners enjoy peace, free from shouts and harsh commands. [19] Everyone is there, the famous and the unknown, and slaves at last are free. [20] Why let people go on living in misery? Why give light to those in grief [21] They wait for death, but it never comes; they prefer a grave to any treasure. [22] They are not happy till they are dead and buried; [23] God keeps their future hidden and hems them in on every side. [24] Instead of eating, I mourn, and I can never stop groaning. [25] Everything I fear and dread comes true. [26] I have no peace, no rest, and my troubles never end.
