1. I saw the arrows of Job's bow,
Well-versed in conversation, unerring,

2. Arrows no resin can melt,
With no feathers fixed or quills attached.

3. He reaches into his quiver and hunts,
Without needing anyone to flush his prey,

4. Nor can crags grant the ibex respite
When above it hangs a threadbare old cloak.

5. He visits the meadows to gently graze them,
Yet the beasts are untroubled by his passing.