“Who let the wild donkey go free? Who untied its ropes?
I gave it the wasteland as its home, the salt flats as its habitat.
It laughs at the commotion in the town; it does not hear a driver’s shout.
It ranges the hills for its pasture and searches for any green thing.
“Will the wild ox consent to serve you? Will it stay by your manger at night?
Can you hold it to the furrow with a harness? Will it till the valleys behind you?
Will you rely on it for its great strength? Will you leave your heavy work to it?
Can you trust it to haul in your grain and bring it to your threshing floor?
“The wings of the ostrich flap joyfully, though they cannot compare with the wings and feathers of the stork.
She lays her eggs on the ground and lets them warm in the sand,
unmindful that a foot may crush them, that some wild animal may trample them.