It paws the ground in the valley, exulting mightily, it goes out to meet the weapons.

Can you bind the wild ox to a furrow with its rope, will it till the valleys, following after you?

The clods of the torrent valley are sweet to him; behind him everybody follows in procession, and before him goes a countless throng.

so that they had to live in the dry stream beds, in the holes of the ground, and among the rocks.

Far from where people live he sinks a shaft, in places travelers have long forgotten, far from other people he dangles and sways.

My brothers have been as treacherous as a seasonal stream, and as the riverbeds of the intermittent streams that flow away.

and throw your gold in the dust – your gold of Ophir among the rocks in the ravines –

And surely, he drew you from the mouth of distress, to a wide place, unrestricted, and to the comfort of your table filled with rich food.