And Eliphaz the Temanite answereth and saith: --

Doth a wise man answer `with' vain knowledge? And fill `with' an east wind his belly?

To reason with a word not useful? And speeches -- no profit in them?

Yea, thou dost make reverence void, And dost diminish meditation before God.

For thy mouth teacheth thine iniquity, And thou chooseth the tongue of the subtile.

Thy mouth declareth thee wicked, and not I, And thy lips testify against thee.

The first man art thou born? And before the heights wast thou formed?

Of the secret counsel of God dost thou hear? And withdrawest thou unto thee wisdom?

What hast thou known, and we know not? Understandest thou -- and it is not with us?

Both the gray-headed And the very aged `are' among us -- Greater than thy father `in' days.

Too few for thee are the comforts of God? And a gentle word `is' with thee,

What -- doth thine heart take thee away? And what -- are thine eyes high?

For thou turnest against God thy spirit? And hast brought out words from thy mouth:

What `is' man that he is pure, And that he is righteous, one born of woman?

Lo, in His holy ones He putteth no credence, And the heavens have not been pure in His eyes.

Also -- surely abominable and filthy Is man drinking as water perverseness.

I shew thee -- hearken to me -- And this I have seen and declare:

Which the wise declare -- And have not hid -- from their fathers.

To them alone was the land given, And a stranger passed not over into their midst:

`All days of the wicked he is paining himself, And few years have been laid up for the terrible one.

A fearful voice `is' in his ears, In peace doth a destroyer come to him.

He believeth not to return from darkness, And watched `is' he for the sword.

He is wandering for bread -- `Where `is' it?' He hath known that ready at his hand Is a day of darkness.

Terrify him do adversity and distress, They prevail over him As a king ready for a boaster.

For he stretched out against God his hand, And against the Mighty he maketh himself mighty.

He runneth unto Him with a neck, With thick bosses of his shields.

For he hath covered his face with his fat, And maketh vigour over `his' confidence.

And he inhabiteth cities cut off, houses not dwelt in, That have been ready to become heaps.

He is not rich, nor doth his wealth rise, Nor doth he stretch out on earth their continuance.

He turneth not aside from darkness, His tender branch doth a flame dry up, And he turneth aside at the breath of His mouth!

Let him not put credence in vanity, He hath been deceived, For vanity is his recompence.

Not in his day is it completed, And his bending branch is not green.

He shaketh off as a vine his unripe fruit, And casteth off as an olive his blossom.

For the company of the profane `is' gloomy, And fire hath consumed tents of bribery.

To conceive misery, and to bear iniquity, Even their heart doth prepare deceit.