Verse 4
Job 30:4
GOD'S WORD Translation
4
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes.
The roots of the broom are their food.
Original Language Text
hebrew
הַ/קֹּטְפִ֣ים מַלּ֣וּחַ עֲלֵי שִׂ֑יחַ וְ/שֹׁ֖רֶשׁ רְתָמִ֣ים לַ/חְמָֽ/ם
English Translation
The collectors of salt gather leaves of the bush and roots of broom for the fire.
AI translation from hebrew via gpt-4o-mini
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Chapter 30 Context
1
“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision,
whose fathers I would have disdained to p...
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2
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me,
men in whom ripe age has perished?
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3
They are gaunt from lack and famine.
They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation....
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4
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes.
The roots of the broom are their food.
5
They are driven out from among men.
They cry after them as after a thief;
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6
So that they dwell in frightful valleys,
and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
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7
Among the bushes they bray;
and under the nettles they are gathered together.
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8
They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men.
They were flogged out of the land.
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9
“Now I have become their song.
Yes, I am a byword to them.
Focus ↗
10
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me,
and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
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11
For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me;
and they have thrown off restraint before me.
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12
On my right hand rise the rabble.
They thrust aside my feet,
They cast up against me their ways of d...
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13
They mar my path,
They set forward my calamity,
without anyone’s help.
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14
As through a wide breach they come,
in the middle of the ruin they roll themselves in.
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15
Terrors have turned on me.
They chase my honor as the wind.
My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
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16
“Now my soul is poured out within me.
Days of affliction have taken hold on me.
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17
In the night season my bones are pierced in me,
and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
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18
By great force is my garment disfigured.
It binds me about as the collar of my coat.
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19
He has cast me into the mire.
I have become like dust and ashes.
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20
I cry to you, and you do not answer me.
I stand up, and you gaze at me.
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21
You have turned to be cruel to me.
With the might of your hand you persecute me.
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22
You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it.
You dissolve me in the storm.
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23
For I know that you will bring me to death,
To the house appointed for all living.
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24
“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall?
Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
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25
Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble?
Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
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26
When I looked for good, then evil came;
When I waited for light, there came darkness.
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27
My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest.
Days of affliction have come on me.
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28
I go mourning without the sun.
I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
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29
I am a brother to jackals,
and a companion to ostriches.
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30
My skin grows black and peels from me.
My bones are burned with heat.
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31
Therefore my harp has turned to mourning,
and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
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