Chapter 9

  And Job answereth and saith: --  

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  Truly I have known that [it is] so, And what -- is man righteous with God?  

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  If he delight to strive with Him -- He doth not answer him one of a thousand.  

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  Wise in heart and strong in power -- Who hath hardened toward Him and is at peace?  

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  Who is removing mountains, And they have not known, Who hath overturned them in His anger.  

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  Who is shaking earth from its place, And its pillars move themselves.  

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  Who is speaking to the sun, and it riseth not, And the stars He sealeth up.  

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  Stretching out the heavens by Himself, And treading on the heights of the sea,  

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  Making Osh, Kesil, and Kimah, And the inner chambers of the south.  

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  Doing great things till there is no searching, And wonderful, till there is no numbering.  

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  Lo, He goeth over by me, and I see not, And He passeth on, and I attend not to it.  

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  Lo, He snatches away, who bringeth it back? Who saith unto Him, 'What dost Thou?'  

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  God doth not turn back His anger, Under Him bowed have proud helpers.  

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  How much less do I -- I answer Him? Choose out my words with Him?  

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  Whom, though I were righteous, I answer not, For my judgment I make supplication.  

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  Though I had called and He answereth me, I do not believe that He giveth ear [to] my voice.  

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  Because with a tempest He bruiseth me, And hath multiplied my wounds for nought.  

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  He permitteth me not to refresh my spirit, But filleth me with bitter things.  

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  If of power, lo, the Strong One; And if of judgment -- who doth convene me?  

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  If I be righteous, Mine mouth doth declare me wicked, Perfect I am! -- it declareth me perverse.  

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  Perfect I am! -- I know not my soul, I despise my life.  

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  It is the same thing, therefore I said, 'The perfect and the wicked He is consuming.'  

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  If a scourge doth put to death suddenly, At the trial of the innocent He laugheth.  

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  Earth hath been given Into the hand of the wicked one. The face of its judges he covereth, If not -- where, who [is] he?  

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  My days have been swifter than a runner, They have fled, they have not seen good,  

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  They have passed on with ships of reed, As an eagle darteth on food.  

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  Though I say, 'I forget my talking, I forsake my corner, and I brighten up!'  

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  I have been afraid of all my griefs, I have known that Thou dost not acquit me.  

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  I -- I am become wicked; why [is] this? [In] vain I labour.  

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  If I have washed myself with snow-water, And purified with soap my hands,  

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  Then in corruption Thou dost dip me, And my garments have abominated me.  

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  But if a man like myself -- I answer him, We come together into judgment.  

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  If there were between us an umpire, He doth place his hand on us both.  

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  He doth turn aside from off me his rod, And His terror doth not make me afraid,  

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  I speak, and do not fear Him, But I am not right with myself.  

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