An old lion is perishing without prey, And the whelps of the lioness do separate.

O that my provocation were thoroughly weighed, And my calamity in balances They would lift up together!

Brayeth a wild ass over tender grass? Loweth an ox over his provender?

That God would please -- and bruise me, Loose His hand and cut me off!

And empty man is bold, And the colt of a wild ass man is born.

O that ye would keep perfectly silent, And it would be to you for wisdom.

If its root becometh old in the earth, And its stem doth die in the dust,

Lo, I cry out -- violence, and am not answered, I cry aloud, and there is no judgment.

Wherefore do the wicked live? They have become old, Yea, they have been mighty in wealth.

Lo, wild asses in a wilderness, They have gone out about their work, Seeking early for prey, A mixture for himself -- food for young ones.

Also -- the power of their hands, why is it to me? On them hath old age perished.

Hast thou known the time of The bearing of the wild goats of the rock? The bringing forth of hinds thou dost mark!

Who hath sent forth the wild ass free? Yea, the bands of the wild ass who opened?