Afterward, Job spoke up and cursed the day he was born.
Perish the day I was born, the night someone said, "A boy has been conceived."
That day—let it be darkness; may God above ignore it, and light not shine on it.
May deepest darkness claim it and a cloud linger over it; may all that darkens the day terrify it.
May gloom seize that night; may it not be counted in the days of a year; may it not appear in the months.
May that night be childless; may no happy singing come in it.
May those who curse the day curse it, those with enough skill to awaken Leviathan.
May its evening stars stay dark; may it wait in vain for light; may it not see dawn's gleam,
because it didn't close the doors of my mother's womb, didn't hide trouble from my eyes.