“Are you acquainted with the way

the mountain goats give birth?

Do you watch as the wild deer give birth to their young?

Do you count the months they must fulfill,

and do you know the time they give birth?

They crouch, they bear their young,

they bring forth the offspring they have carried.

Their young grow strong, and grow up in the open;

they go off, and do not return to them.

Who let the wild donkey go free?

Who released the bonds of the donkey,

to whom I appointed the steppe for its home,

the salt wastes as its dwelling place?

It scorns the tumult in the town;

it does not hear the shouts of a driver.

It ranges the hills as its pasture,

and searches after every green plant.

Is the wild ox willing to be your servant?

Will it spend the night at your feeding trough?

Can you bind the wild ox to a furrow with its rope,

will it till the valleys, following after you?

Will you rely on it because its strength is great?

Will you commit your labor to it?

Can you count on it to bring in your grain,

and gather the grain to your threshing floor?

For she leaves her eggs on the ground,

and lets them be warmed on the soil.

She forgets that a foot might crush them,

or that a wild animal might trample them.

She is harsh with her young,

as if they were not hers;

she is unconcerned

about the uselessness of her labor.

For God deprived her of wisdom,

and did not impart understanding to her.

But as soon as she springs up,

she laughs at the horse and its rider.

“Do you give the horse its strength?

Do you clothe its neck with a mane?

Do you make it leap like a locust?

Its proud neighing is terrifying!

It paws the ground in the valley,

exulting mightily,

it goes out to meet the weapons.

It laughs at fear and is not dismayed;

it does not shy away from the sword.

On it the quiver rattles;

the lance and javelin flash.

In excitement and impatience it consumes the ground;

it cannot stand still when the trumpet is blown.

At the sound of the trumpet, it says, ‘Aha!’

And from a distance it catches the scent of battle,

the thunderous shouting of commanders,

and the battle cries.

“Is it by your understanding that the hawk soars,

and spreads its wings toward the south?

Is it at your command that the eagle soars,

and builds its nest on high?

It lives on a rock and spends the night there,

on a rocky crag and a fortress.

From there it spots its prey,

its eyes gaze intently from a distance.

And its young ones devour the blood,

and where the dead carcasses are,

there it is.”