“If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales!
It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas— no wonder my words have been impetuous.
The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God’s terrors are marshaled against me.
Does a wild donkey bray when it has grass, or an ox bellow when it has fodder?
Is tasteless food eaten without salt, or is there flavor in the sap of the mallow ?
I refuse to touch it; such food makes me ill.
“Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for,
that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose his hand and cut off my life!
Then I would still have this consolation— my joy in unrelenting pain— that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.
“What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient?
Do I have the strength of stone? Is my flesh bronze?