1 At last Job spoke, and he cursed the day of his birth.
and the night I was conceived.
Let it be lost even to God on high,
and let no light shine on it.
Let a black cloud overshadow it,
and let the darkness terrify it.
never again to be counted among the days of the year,
never again to appear among the months.
Let it have no joy.
whose cursing could rouse Leviathana —
curse that day.
Let it hope for light, but in vain;
may it never see the morning light.
for letting me be born to see all this trouble.
Why didn’t I die as I came from the womb?
Why did she nurse me at her breasts?
I would be asleep and at rest.
whose great buildings now lie in ruins.
whose palaces were filled with silver.
like a baby who never lives to see the light?
and the weary are at rest.
with no guards to curse them.
and the slave is free from his master.
and life to those who are bitter?
They search for death more eagerly than for hidden treasure.
and rejoice when they find the grave.
those God has surrounded with difficulties?
my groans pour out like water.
What I dreaded has come true.
I have no rest; only trouble comes.”
Job, 3 chapter. New Living Translation.