Job 27

And Job adds to lift up his allegory and says:

“God lives! He turned aside my judgment, || And the Mighty—He made my soul bitter.

For all the while my breath [is] in me, || And the wind of God in my nostrils.

My lips do not speak perverseness, || And my tongue does not utter deceit.

Defilement to me—if I justify you, || Until I expire I do not turn aside my integrity from me.

On my righteousness I have laid hold, || And I do not let it go, || My heart does not reproach me while I live.

My enemy is as the wicked, || And my withstander as the perverse.

For what [is] the hope of the profane, || When He cuts off? When God casts off his soul?

[Does] God hear his cry, || When distress comes on him?

Does he delight himself on the Mighty? Call God at all times?

I show you by the hand of God, || That which [is] with the Mighty I do not hide.

Behold, you—all of you—have seen, || And why [is] this—you are altogether vain?

This [is] the portion of wicked man with God, || And the inheritance of terrible ones || They receive from the Mighty.

If his sons multiply—a sword [is] for them. And his offspring [are] not satisfied [with] bread.

His remnant are buried in death, || And his widows do not weep.

If he heaps up silver as dust, || And prepares clothing as clay,

He prepares—and the righteous puts [it] on, || And the innocent apportions the silver.

He has built his house as a moth, || And as a shelter a watchman has made.

He lies down rich, and he is not gathered, || He has opened his eyes, and he is not.

Terrors overtake him as waters, || By night a whirlwind has stolen him away.

An east wind takes him up, and he goes, || And it frightens him from his place,

And it casts at him, and does not spare, || He diligently flees from its hand.

It claps its hands at him, || And it hisses at him from his place.”