איוב יחJob 18

Then Bildad the Shuhite said in reply:

How long? Put an end to talk!Consider, and then we shall speak.

Why are we thought of as brutes,Regarded by you as stupid?

You who tear yourself to pieces in anger—Will earth’s order be disrupted for your sake?Will rocks be dislodged from their place?

Indeed, the light of the wicked fails;The flame of his fire does not shine.

The light in his tent darkens;His lamp fails him.

His iniquitous strides are hobbled;His schemes overthrow him.

He is led by his feet into the net;He walks onto the toils.

The trap seizes his heel;The noose tightens on him.

The rope for him lies hidden on the ground;His snare, on the path.

Terrors assault him on all sidesAnd send his feet flying.

His progeny hunger;Disaster awaits his wife.

The tendons under his skin are consumed;Death’s first-born consumes his tendons.

He is torn from the safety of his tent;Terror marches him to the king.

It lodges in his desolate tent;Sulfur is strewn upon his home.

His roots below dry up,And above, his branches wither.

All mention of him vanishes from the earth;He has no name abroad.

He is thrust from light to darkness,Driven from the world.

He has no seed or breed among his people,No survivor where he once lived.

Generations to come will be appalled at his fate,As the previous ones are seized with horror.

“These were the haunts of the wicked;Here was the place of someone who knew not God.”