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Do you know the mountain goats’ birth time,
do you mark the calving of the gazelles?
Do you number the months till they come to term
and know their birthing time?
They crouch, burst forth with their babes,
their young they push out to the world.
Their offspring batten, grow big in the wild,
they go out and do not return.
Who set the wild ass free,
and the onager’s reins who loosed,
whose home I made in the steppes,
his dwelling-place flats of salt?
He scoffs at the bustling city,
the driver’s shouts he does not hear.
He roams for his forage,
and every green thing he seeks.
Will the wild ox want to serve you,
pass the night at your feeding trough?
Bind the wild ox with cord for the furrow,
will he harrow the valleys behind you?
Can you rely on him with his great power
and leave your labor to him?
Can you trust him to bring back your seed,
gather grain on your threshing floor?
The ostrich’s wing joyously beats.
Is the pinion, the plume, like the stork’s?
For she leaves her eggs on the ground,
and in the dust she lets them warm.
And she forgets that a foot can crush them,
and a beast of the field stomp on them—
harsh, abandons her young to a stranger,
in vain her labor, without fear.
For God made her forgetful of wisdom,
and He did not allot her insight.
Now on the height she races,
she scoffs at the horse and its rider.
Do you give might to the horse,
do you clothe his neck with a mane?
Do you make his roar like locusts?
his splendid snort is terror.
He churns up the valley exulting,
in power goes out to the clash of arms.
He scoffs at fear and is undaunted,
turns not back before the sword.
Over him rattles the quiver,
the blade, the javelin, and the spear.
With clamor and clatter he swallows the ground,
and ignores the trumpet’s sound.
At the trumpet, he says, “Aha,”
and from afar he scents the fray,
the thunder of captains, the shouts.
Does the hawk soar by your wisdom,
spread his wings to fly away south?
By your word does the eagle mount
and set his nest on high?
On the crag he dwells and beds down,
on the crest of the crag his stronghold.
From there he seeks out food,
from afar his eyes look down.
His chicks lap up blood,
where the slain are, there he is.
Everything has a season, and a time for every matter under the heavens.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to rip down and a time to build.
A time to weep and a time to laugh.
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to fling stones and a time to gather stones in.
A time to embrace and a time to pull back from embracing.
A time to seek and a time to lose.
A time to keep and a time to fling away.
A time to tear and a time to sew.
A time to keep silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.
A prayer for the lowly when he grows faint
and pours out his plea before the Lord.
Lord, O hear my prayer,
and let my outcry come before You.
Hide not Your face from me
on the day when I am in straits.
Incline Your ear to me.
On the day I call, quickly answer me.
For my days are consumed in smoke,
and my bones are scorched like a hearth.
My heart is stricken and withers like grass,
so I forget to eat my bread.
From my loud sighing,
my bones cleave to my flesh.
I resemble the wilderness jackdaw,
I become the owl of the ruins.
I lie awake and become
like a lonely bird on a roof.
All day long my enemies revile me,
my taunters invoke me in curse.
For ashes I have eaten as bread,
and my drink I have mingled with tears—
because of Your wrath and Your fury,
for You raised me up and flung me down.
My days inclined like a shadow,
and I—like grass I withered.
And You Lord, forever enthroned,
and Your name—for all generations.
You, may You rise, have mercy on Zion,
for it is the hour to pity her, for the fixed time has come.
For Your servants cherish her stones
and on her dust they take pity.
And the nations will fear the name of the Lord,
and all kings of the earth, Your glory.
For the Lord has rebuilt Zion,
He is seen in His glory.
He has turned to the prayer of the desolate
and has not despised their prayer.
Let this be inscribed for a generation to come,
that a people yet unborn may praise Yah.
For the Lord has gazed down from His holy heights,
from heaven to earth He has looked
to hear the groans of the captive,
to set loose those doomed to die,
that the name of the Lord be recounted in Zion
and His praise in Jerusalem
when peoples gather together
and kingdoms, to serve the Lord.
He humbled my strength on the highway,
he cut short my days.
I say, “O my God.
Do not take me away in the midst of my days!
Your years are for all generations.
Of old You founded the earth,
and the heavens—Your handiwork.
They will perish and You will yet stand.
They will all wear away like a garment.
Like clothing You change them, and they pass away.
But You—Your years never end.
The sons of Your servants dwell safe,
their seed in Your presence, unshaken.”
Death sweeps away
The person obsessed
With gathering flowers,
As a great flood sweeps away a sleeping village.
The person obsessed
With gathering flowers,
Insatiable for sense pleasures,
Is under the sway of Death.
As a bee gathers nectar
And moves on without harming
The flower, its color, or its fragrance,
Just so should a sage walk through a village.
Do not consider the faults of others
Or what they have or haven’t done.
Consider rather
What you yourself have or haven’t done.
Without going out your door
you can know the whole world
without looking out your window
you can know the Way of Heaven
the farther people go
the less they know
sages therefore know without traveling
name without seeing
and succeed without trying
To understand yet not understand
is transcendence
not to understand yet understand
is affliction
the reason sages aren’t afflicted
is because they treat affliction as affliction
hence they aren’t afflicted
The incomplete becomes whole
the crooked become straight
the hollow become full
the worn-out become new
those with less become content
those with more become confused
sages therefore hold to one thing
and use this to guide the world
not considering themselves as they appear
not displaying themselves they shine
not flattering themselves they succeed
not parading themselves they lead
because they don’t compete
no one can compete against them
the ancients who said the incomplete became whole
came close indeed
becoming whole depends on this