Bildad asks Job when he will put an end to words: consider, and then we will speak. Why are we counted as cattle and regarded as stupid in your sight? You who tear yourself in your anger, shall the earth be forsaken for you, or the rock be removed from its place?
Then Bildad describes the fate of the wicked. The light of the wicked is put out, and the flame of his fire does not shine. The light is dark in his tent, and his lamp above him is put out. His strong steps are shortened, and his own counsel throws him down. He is cast into a net by his own feet and walks onto a snare. A trap seizes him by the heel and a snare lays hold of him. A rope is hidden for him in the ground, a trap for him in the path. Terrors frighten him on every side and chase him at his heels. His strength is famished and calamity is ready for his stumbling. It consumes the skin of his body; the firstborn of death consumes his limbs.
He is torn from the tent in which he trusted and brought to the king of terrors. In his tent dwells what is not his, and sulfur is scattered over his habitation. His roots dry up beneath, and his branch withers above. His memory perishes from the earth, and he has no name in the street. He is thrust from light into darkness and driven out of the world. He has no offspring or descendant among his people, and no survivor where he used to live. They of the west are appalled at his day, and the east is seized with horror. Surely such are the dwellings of the unrighteous, such is the place of one who knows not God.