Zophar, the Naamathite then spoke:
My spirit has a reply now;
My thoughts provide an answer, Oh!
I feel ashamed to hear your words,
That clearly speaks ill of the Lord’s.
From olden times, since man was made,
The triumph of the wicked fade;
The impious cannot enjoy,
The things on earth since when a boy.
Although his pride goes heaven-high,
And head in cloud-nine trys to fly,
He perishes like his fire
That lights his funeral pyre.
His flight is dream-like when it came,
And fades vision-like sans a name;
He never is found anywhere,
And vanishes into thin air!
The vigor of his youthful frame,
Is made to lie in dust with shame;
The evil of his mouth is sweet,
Under his tongue, hidden so neat.
He cannot let the habit die;
His food like venom too does lie;
The riches gulped, he vomits all,
Disowned by his own belly-wall.
He drinks the poison of the asps;
The viper’s fangs kill him like wasps;
He never sees milk, honey, oil,
Nor enjoys fruits of his own toil.
With greed he lives on earth life-long,
Dissatisfied by wealth got wrong;
God never bestows him right clime;
He never prospers any time!
In dire straits, he’s thrown at last;
God sends His fury very fast;
Missiles of war are rained on him,
His life is turned so quickly grim.
Should he escape the first weapon,
Terrors galore shall he fall on;
In store for him lies pitch darkness
And raging fire sans harness.
The earth revolts against him soon;
Heavens reveal his guilt by noon;
His house is washed away by floods;
God’s anger denies him all goods.
This is the heritage of men-
Wicked in eyes of God, Heaven!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-5-2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem