I speak with bitterness of soul,
‘I hate my life; don’t prove me wrong.
O God, why do you oppose me?
Does oppression give pleasure, Lord? ’
‘Why spurn the good work of your hands?
Can’t you perceive like how man sees?
Is your lifetime akin mortals?
You know I’m not a wicked man,
And yet you seek my sins and guilt! ’
‘You fashioned me with your own hands
And then, why destroy me, O God?
From clay, you made me very well
Do you want to turn me to dust? ’
‘Like milk, you poured me, made me cheese!
You clothed my bones with flesh and skin;
You gave me grace and spirit too;
You hide your purpose in your heart! ’
‘You watch me sin but suffer guilt;
If I’m wicked, alas for me!
If righteous, what’s the advantage
To live in shame and afflicted? ’
‘A lion-like, you hunt me down
And show your mighty power, Lord;
Repeatedly, you attack me
And harass me, so often, God.’
‘Why out of womb, you brought me live?
I should have died without notice;
Had I ne’er lived, how much better?
From womb, you could have shown my tomb! ’
‘Are not my days on earth just few?
Leave me ’lone to recoup a bit,
Before I go to ne’er return,
From land of darkness and of gloom-
The land where darkness is but light! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-29-2007
I am going to simply state this once...i am in total accordance with you, Bill Gotti and one other on this site...and this is an appropriate piece to be reading, at least for me, this day, this morning with so mush utter chaos in my life right now! Many blessings to you! i seldom commnet to you but always rate you a ten just because of your subject matter and the way you so brillantly bring it alive! Theo
Dr. Celes, What an appropriate early morning read for a Sunday morning! I enjoyed it very much and there is a technical achievement here Job being the book that some regard as the greatest piece of world literature. A fine poetic transmutation of soul dear sir. Blessings, Bill Grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Man cannot understand the ways of God, who has His own way of disposing things. Yet man is an instrument in the hands of God, who decides his fate.