Job.
Chapter 3.
After this Job began speaking, cursing the day of his birth. 
He said, 
“Wipe out the day I was born, and the night when it was announced that a boy had been conceived. 
Turn that day to darkness. God above should not remember it. Don't let light shine on it. 
Take it back, darkness and death-shadow. A black cloud should overshadow it. It should be as terrifying as the darkness of an eclipse during the day. 
Blot out that night as if it never existed. Don't count it on the calendar. Don't let it have a day in any month. 
Let that night be childless, with no sounds of happiness heard. 
Those who place curses on certain days should curse it, those who have the power to raise Leviathan. 
Its early morning stars should stay dark. Looking for light, may none come, may it not see the glimmer of dawn 
for it did not shut my mother's womb to prevent me from seeing trouble. 
Why wasn't I stillborn? Why didn't I die at birth? 
Why was there a lap for me to lie on, or breasts for me to suck? 
For now I would be lying down in peace. I would be sleeping and at rest, 
along with the kings of this world and their officials whose palaces now lie in ruins, 
or with noblemen who collected gold and filled their houses with silver. 
Why wasn't I a miscarriage, buried in secret, a baby who never saw the light? 
There in the grave the wicked give no more trouble, and those whose strength is gone have their rest. 
There prisoners take it easy—they don't hear the commands of their oppressors. 
Both small and great are there, and slaves are freed from their masters. 
Why does God give life to those who are suffering, living bitterly miserable lives, 
those who are waiting for death that does not come and who are looking for death more desperately than hunting for treasure? 
They're so incredibly happy when they reach the grave! 
Why is light given to someone who doesn't know where they're going, someone God has fenced in? 
My groans are the bread I eat; my raging tears are the water I drink. 
For all that I feared has happened to me; everything that I dreaded has come upon me. 
I have no peace, no quiet, no rest. All that comes is rage.” 
