Will the wild-ox be content to serve thee? Or will he abide by thy crib?

The wings of the ostrich wave proudly, [but] are they the pinions and plumage of love?

Do thou know the time when the wild goats of the rock bring forth? [Or] can thou mark when the hinds do calve?

Have thou given the horse [his] might? Have thou clothed his neck with the quivering mane?

Is it at thy command that the eagle mounts up, and makes her nest on high?

Who has sent out the wild donkey free? Or who has loosed the bonds of the swift donkey

Can thou bind the wild-ox with his band in the furrow? Or will he harrow the valleys after thee?

Is it by thy wisdom that the hawk soars, (and) stretches her wings toward the south?

Her young ones also suck up blood. And where the slain are, there is she.

As often as the trumpet [sounds] he says, Aha! And he smells the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

For she leaves her eggs on the ground, and warms them in the dust.

whose home I have made the wilderness, and the salt land his dwelling-place?

The quiver rattles against him, the flashing spear and the javelin.

He paws in the valley, and rejoices in his strength. He goes out to meet the armed men.

She deals hardly with her young ones, as if they were not hers. Though her labor be in vain, [she is] without fear,

because God has deprived her of wisdom, nor has he imparted understanding to her.

He swallows the ground with fierceness and rage, nor does he believe that it is the voice of the trumpet.

Will thou confide in him that he will bring home thy seed, and gather [the grain] of thy threshing-floor?

Their young ones become strong. They grow up in the open field. They go forth, and return not again.

Have thou made him to leap as a locust? The glory of his snorting is awesome.

He mocks at fear, and is not dismayed. Neither does he turn back from the sword.

She dwells on the cliff, and makes her home upon the point of the cliff and the stronghold.

The range of the mountains is his pasture, and he searches after every green thing.

The time she lifts up herself on high she scorns the horse and his rider.

He scorns the tumult of the city, neither does he hear the shoutings of the driver.

From there she spies out the prey. Her eyes behold it afar off.

Will thou trust him because his strength is great? Or will thou leave to him thy labor?

And she forgets that the foot may crush them, or that the wild beast may trample them.

They bow themselves. They bring forth their young. They cast out their pains.

Can thou number the months that they fulfill? Or do thou know the time when they bring forth?