1 * Finally, Job cursed the day

of his birth

2 by saying to God:

3 Blot out the day of my birth

and the night when my parents

created a son.

4 Forget about that day,

cover it with darkness,

5 and send thick, gloomy shadows

to fill it with dread.

6 Erase that night from the calendar

and conceal it with darkness.

7 Don't let children be created

or joyful shouts be heard

ever again in that night.

8 Let those with magic powers*

place a curse on that day.

9 Darken its morning stars

and remove all hope of light,

10 because it let me be born

into a world of trouble.

11 Why didn't I die at birth?

12 Why was I accepted*

and allowed to nurse

at my mother's breast?

13 Now I would be at peace

in the silent world below

14 with kings and their advisors

whose palaces lie in ruins,

15 and with rulers once rich

with silver and gold.

16 I wish I had been born dead

and then buried, never to see

the light of day.

17 In the world of the dead,

the wicked and the weary rest

without a worry.

* 18 Everyone is there—

19 where captives and slaves

are free at last.

20 Why does God let me live

when life is miserable

and so bitter?

21 * I keep longing for death

more than I would seek

a valuable treasure.

22 Nothing could make me happier

than to be in the grave.

23 Why do I go on living

when God has me surrounded,

and I can't see the road?

24 Moaning and groaning

are my food and drink,

25 and my worst fears

have all come true.

26 I have no peace or rest—

only troubles and worries.