then let my shoulder fall from the shoulder blade, and my arm be broken from the bone.
then let my wife grind for another, and let others sleep with her.
For calamity from God is a terror to me. Because his majesty, I can do nothing.
let briars grow instead of wheat, and stinkweed instead of barley.* The words of Iyov are ended.
From the wicked, their light is withheld. The high arm is broken.
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don't remember you; if I don't prefer Yerushalayim above my chief joy.