Bible in Basic English
But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.
With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.
Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.
You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.
Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.
For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.
Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?
Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?
For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.
My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.
I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.
I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.
My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.
And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.
— Job 30:16-1964, Bible in Basic English
“"Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold on me. In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest. By great force is my garment disfigured. It binds me about as the collar of my coat. He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes. I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me. You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me. You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm. For I know that you will bring me to death, To the house appointed for all living. "However doesn't one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help? Didn't I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn't my soul grieved for the needy? When I looked for good, then evil came; When I waited for light, there came darkness. My heart is troubled, and doesn't rest. Days of affliction have come on me. I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help. I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches. My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat. Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.”
They have made waste my roads, with a view to my destruction; his bowmen come round about me;
As through a wide broken place in the wall they come on, I am overturned by the shock of their attack.
Fears have come on me; my hope is gone like the wind, and my well-being like a cloud.
But now my soul is turned to water in me, days of trouble overtake me:
The flesh is gone from my bones, and they give me no rest; there is no end to my pains.
With great force he takes a grip of my clothing, pulling me by the neck of my coat.
Truly God has made me low, even to the earth, and I have become like dust.
You give no answer to my cry, and take no note of my prayer.
You have become cruel to me; the strength of your hand is hard on me.
Lifting me up, you make me go on the wings of the wind; I am broken up by the storm.
For I am certain that you will send me back to death, and to the meeting-place ordered for all living.
Has not my hand been stretched out in help to the poor? have I not been a saviour to him in his trouble?
Have I not been weeping for the crushed? and was not my soul sad for him who was in need?
For I was looking for good, and evil came; I was waiting for light, and it became dark.
My feelings are strongly moved, and give me no rest; days of trouble have overtaken me.
I go about in dark clothing, uncomforted; I get up in the public place, crying out for help.
I have become a brother to the jackals, and go about in the company of ostriches.
My skin is black and dropping off me; and my bones are burning with the heat of my disease.
And my music has been turned to sorrow, and the sound of my pipe into the noise of weeping.