2 Canst thou number the months that they fulfil? Or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?
3 They bow themselves, they bring forth their young, They cast out their pains.
4 Their young ones become strong, they grow up in the open field; They go forth, and return not again.
5 Who hath sent out the wild ass free? Or who hath loosed the bonds of the swift ass,
6 Whose home I have made the wilderness, And the salt land his dwelling-place?
7 He scorneth the tumult of the city, Neither heareth he the shoutings of the driver.
8 The range of the mountains is his pasture, And he searcheth after every green thing.
