Psalmi 144
1 Davidov. Blagoslovljen Jahve, hridina moja: ruke mi uči boju a prste ratu.
Of David. Blest be the Lord my rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for fighting.
2 On je ljubav moja i tvrđava moja, zaštita moja, izbavitelj moj, štit moj za koji se sklanjam; on mi narode stavlja pod noge!
My rock and my fortress, my tower, my deliverer, my shield, behind whom I take refuge, who lays nations low at my feet.
3 Što je čovjek, o Jahve, da ga poznaješ, što li čedo ljudsko da ga se spominješ?
Lord, what are mortals that you care for them, humans, that you think of them?
4 Poput daška je čovjek, dani njegovi kao sjena nestaju.
They are like a breath, their days as a shadow that passes.
5 Jahve, nagni svoja nebesa i siđi, takni bregove: i zadimit će se!
Lord, bow your heavens and come down: touch the hills, so that they smoke.
6 Sijevni munjom i rasprši dušmane, odapni strijele i rasprši ih!
Flash forth lightning and scatter them, your arrows send forth and confound them.
7 Ruku pruži iz visina, istrgni me i spasi iz voda beskrajnih, iz šaka sinova tuđinskih:
Stretch out your hand from on high; pluck me out of the mighty waters, out of the hands of foreigners,
8 laži govore usta njihova, a desnica krivo priseže.
who speak with the mouth of falsehood, and lift their right hand to swear lies.
9 Pjevat ću ti, Bože, pjesmu novu, na harfi od deset žica svirat ću.
O God, a new song I would sing you, on a ten-stringed harp make you music.
10 Ti daješ pobjedu kraljevima, koji si spasio Davida, slugu svojega. Od pogubna mača
For to kings you give the victory, and David your servant you save.
11 spasi mene, oslobodi me iz ruke tuđinske; laži govore usta njihova, a desnica krivo priseže.
Snatch me from the cruel sword, rescue me from the hand of foreigners, who speak with the mouth of falsehood, and lift their right hand to swear lies.
12 Daj da nam sinovi budu kao biljke što rastu od mladosti svoje; a kćeri naše kao stupovi ugaoni, krasne poput hramskog stupovlja;
May our sons in their youth be as plants well tended: our daughters like cornices carved as in palaces.
13 da nam žitnice budu pune svakog obilja, s plodovima svakojakim u izobilju;
May our barns be bursting with produce of all kinds. In the fields may our sheep bear by thousands and ten thousands.
14 ovce naše plodile se na tisuće, plodile se beskrajno na našim poljima; stoka naša neka bude tovna! U zidinama nam ne bilo proboja ni ropstva ni plača na ulicama našim!
May our cattle be fat, our walls unbreached, may no cry of distress ring in our streets.
15 Blago narodu kojem je tako, blago narodu kojem je Jahve Bog!
Happy the people who fares so well: and so fares the people whose God is the Lord.
