Then Job took up his topic again:
As God lives, who rejected my legal claim, the Almighty, who made me bitter,
as long as breath is in me and God's breath is in my nostrils—
my lips will utter no wickedness; my tongue will mumble no deceit.
I will not agree that you are right. Until my dying day, I won't give up my integrity.
I will insist on my innocence, never surrendering it; my conscience will never blame me for what I have done.
Let my enemy be like the wicked, my opposition like the vicious.
For what hope has the godless when God cuts them off, when he takes them away.
Will God hear their cries when distress comes to them;
will they delight in the Almighty, call God at any time?
I will teach you God's power, not hide what pertains to the Almighty.
Look, those of you who recognize this— why then this empty talk?
This is the wicked's portion with God, the inheritance that the ruthless receive from the Almighty.
If their children increase, they belong to the sword; their offspring won't have enough bread.
Their survivors will be buried with the dead; their widows won't weep.
If they store up silver like dust, amass clothing like clay,
they may amass, but the righteous will wear it; the innocent will divide the silver.
They built their houses like nests, like a hut made by a watchman.
They lie down rich, but no longer; open their eyes, but it's missing.
Terrors overtake them like waters; a tempest snatches them by night;
an east wind lifts them, and they are gone, removes them from their places,
throws itself on them without mercy; they flee desperately from its force.
It claps its hands over them, hisses at them from their place.