Job 6 in plain modern English. New Ground English Translation.

Then Job answered:

If only somebody would weigh my grief, lay my ruin on the scale beside it.

It would come out heavier than the sand of every sea. That is why my words come out wild.

The arrows of the Almighty are in me. My spirit is drinking their poison. God's terrors are drawn up against me in a line.

Does a wild donkey bray when the grass is deep? Does an ox bellow over a full trough?

Do you eat flat food without salt? Is there any flavor in the white of an egg?

My throat refuses to touch it. It is food that makes me sick.

If only my request came through. If only God handed me the one thing I still hope for.

That God would agree to crush me — let his hand go loose and cut the thread.

That would still be a comfort to me. I would leap in the middle of pain that shows no mercy, because I never buried the words of the One Like No Other.

What strength do I have left, that I should keep waiting? What ending am I holding out for?

Is my strength the strength of stone? Is my body cast in bronze?

There is no help left inside me. Everything I had to hold on with has been driven out.

A man coming apart should get loyalty from his friends, even if he lets go of his fear of the Almighty.

My brothers have betrayed me like a desert stream, like streambeds that run and are gone.

They run dark with meltwater, swollen with the snow that hides in them.

Then the heat comes and they thin out to nothing. When it burns, they go out where they lie.

Caravans turn off the road to find them, go up into empty country and die there.

The caravans of Tema look for that water. The traders of Sheba count on it.

They are humiliated for having trusted it. They get there, and they stand with nothing.

That is what you have become to me — nothing. You saw something terrible and it frightened you off.

Did I ever say, "Give me something"? "Take some of your money and buy me out of this"?

"Get me clear of an enemy's hands"? "Pay off the men who are holding me"?

Teach me, and I will go quiet. Show me where I went wrong and I will listen.

Straight words hurt going in — I know that. But what does the arguing on your side actually prove?

Do you plan on correcting my words? A desperate man's words are just breath in the air.

You would throw dice for an orphan. You would haggle over your own friend.

So look at me. Please. I am not going to lie to your face.

Start over. Don't let this turn crooked. Start over — I am still in the right.

Is there anything crooked on my tongue? Can my mouth not taste it when something is poison?