Job 7

NEW AMERICAN BIBLE	CATHOLIC PUBLIC DOMAIN
1 Is not man's life on earth a drudgery? Are not his days those of a hireling?	1 The life of a man on the earth is a battle, and his days are like the days of a hired hand.
2 He is a slave who longs for the shade, a hireling who waits for his wages.	2 Just as a servant desires the shade, and just as the hired hand looks forward to the end of his work,
3 So I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been told off for me.	3 so also have I had empty months and have counted my burdensome nights.
4 If in bed I say, "When shall I arise?" then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.	4 If I lie down to sleep, I will say, “When will I rise?” And next I will hope for the evening and will be filled with sorrows even until darkness.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and scabs; my skin cracks and festers;	5 My flesh is clothed with particles of rottenness and filth; my skin is dried up and tightened.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle; they come to an end without hope.	6 My days have passed by more quickly than threads are cut by a weaver, and they have been consumed without any hope.
7 Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.	7 Remember that my life is wind, and my eye will not return to see good things.
8 The eye that now sees me shall no more behold me; as you look at me, I shall be gone.	8 Neither will the sight of man gaze upon me; your eyes are upon me, and I will not endure.
9 As a cloud dissolves and vanishes, so he who goes down to the nether world shall come up no more.	9 Just as a cloud is consumed and passes away, so he who descends to hell will not ascend.
10 He shall not again return to his house; his place shall know him no more.	10 He will not return again to his house, nor will his own place know him any longer.
11 My own utterance I will not restrain; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.	11 And because of this, I will not restrain my mouth. I will speak in the affliction of my spirit. I will converse from the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I the sea, or a monster of the deep, that you place a watch over me? Why have you set me up as an object of attack; or why should I be a target for you?	12 Am I an ocean or a whale, that you have encircled me in a prison?
13 When I say, "My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint,"	13 If I say, “My bed will comfort me, and I will find rest, speaking with myself on my blanket,”
14 Then you affright me with dreams and with visions terrify me,	14 then you will frighten me with dreams, and strike dread through visions,
15 So that I should prefer choking and death rather than my pains.	15 so that, because of these things, my soul would choose hanging, and my bones, death.
16 I waste away: I cannot live forever; let me alone, for my days are but a breath.	16 I despair; by no means will I live any longer. Spare me, for my days are nothing.
17 What is man, that you make much of him, or pay him any heed?	17 What is man, that you should praise him? Or why do you place your heart near him?
18 You observe him with each new day and try him at every moment!	18 You visit him at dawn, and you test him unexpectedly.
19 How long will it be before you look away from me, and let me alone long enough to swallow my spittle?	19 How long will you not spare me, nor release me to ingest my saliva?
20 Though I have sinned, what can I do to you, O watcher of men?	20 I have sinned; what should I do for you, O keeper of men? Why have you set me against you, so that I have become burdensome even to myself?
21 Why do you not pardon my offense, or take away my guilt? For soon I shall lie down in the dust; and should you seek me I shall then be gone.	21 Why do you not steal away my sin, and why do you not sweep away my iniquity? Behold, now I will sleep in the dust, and if you seek me in the morning, I will not remain.