After this, Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth.
“May the day of my birth perish, and the night that said, ‘A boy is conceived!’
That day—may it turn to darkness; may God above not care about it; may no light shine on it.
May gloom and utter darkness claim it once more; may a cloud settle over it; may blackness overwhelm it.
That night—may thick darkness seize it; may it not be included among the days of the year nor be entered in any of the months.
May that night be barren; may no shout of joy be heard in it.
May those who curse days curse that day, those who are ready to rouse Leviathan.
May its morning stars become dark; may it wait for daylight in vain and not see the first rays of dawn,
for it did not shut the doors of the womb on me to hide trouble from my eyes.
“Why did I not perish at birth, and die as I came from the womb?