NAB

Do you know when mountain goats are born,
or watch for the birth pangs of deer,

Number the months that they must fulfill,
or know when they give birth,

When they crouch down and drop their young,
when they deliver their progeny?

Their offspring thrive and grow in the open,
they leave and do not return.

Who has given the wild donkey his freedom,
and who has loosed the wild ass from bonds?

I have made the wilderness his home
and the salt flats his dwelling.

He scoffs at the uproar of the city,
hears no shouts of a driver.

He ranges the mountains for pasture,
and seeks out every patch of green.

Will the wild ox consent to serve you,
or pass the nights at your manger?

Will you bind the wild ox with a rope in the furrow,
and will he plow the valleys after you?

Will you depend on him for his great strength
and leave to him the fruits of your toil?

Can you rely on him to bring in your grain
and gather in the yield of your threshing floor?

The wings of the ostrich flap away;
her plumage is lacking in feathers.

When she abandons her eggs on the ground
and lets them warm in the sand,

She forgets that a foot may crush them,
that the wild beasts may trample them;

She cruelly disowns her young
and her labor is useless; she has no fear.

For God has withheld wisdom from her
and given her no share in understanding.

Yet when she spreads her wings high,
she laughs at a horse and rider.

Do you give the horse his strength,
and clothe his neck with a mane?

Do you make him quiver like a locust,
while his thunderous snorting spreads terror?

He paws the valley, he rejoices in his strength,
and charges into battle.

He laughs at fear and cannot be terrified;
he does not retreat from the sword.

Around him rattles the quiver,
flashes the spear and the javelin.

Frenzied and trembling he devours the ground;
he does not hold back at the sound of the trumpet;

at the trumpet’s call he cries, “Aha!”
Even from afar he scents the battle,
the roar of the officers and the shouting.

Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars,
that he spreads his wings toward the south?

Does the eagle fly up at your command
to build his nest up high?

On a cliff he dwells and spends the night,
on the spur of cliff or fortress.

From there he watches for his food;
his eyes behold it afar off.

His young ones greedily drink blood;
where the slain are, there is he.