Job 17
1 Min Aand er brudt, mine Dage ere udslukkede, Gravene vente mig.
My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me.
2 Er der ikke Spot omkring mig, og maa mit Øje ikke dvæle ved deres Genstridighed?
Are there not mockers with me? and doth not my eye continue in their provocation?
3 Kære, stil mig Borgen hos dig, lov for mig; hvo er der ellers, der giver mig Haandslag?
Lay down now, put me in a surety with thee; who is he that will strike hands with me?
4 Thi du har lukket deres Hjerte for Indsigt, derfor skal du ikke ophøje dem.
For thou hast hid their heart from understanding: therefore shalt thou not exalt them.
5 Man byder Venner ud til Bytte, og deres Børns Øjne hentæres.
He that speaketh flattery to his friends, even the eyes of his children shall fail.
6 Men han har stillet mig til at være et Ordsprog iblandt Folkene, og jeg er bleven som den, man spytter i Ansigtet.
He hath made me also a byword of the people; and as one before whom men spit.
7 Derfor er mit Øje mørkt af Harm, og alle mine Lemmer ere som en Skygge.
My eye also is dim by reason of sorrow, and all my members are as a shadow.
8 For sligt maa de oprigtige forskrækkes, og den uskyldige harmes over den vanhellige.
Upright men shall be appalled at this, and the innocent shall stir up himself against the hypocrite.
9 Dog holder den retfærdige fast ved sin Vej, og den, som har rene Hænder, faar mere Styrke.
The righteous also shall hold on his way, and he that hath clean hands shall be stronger and stronger.
10 Men I, kommer kun alle frem igen, og jeg vil dog ikke finde en viis iblandt eder.
But as for you all, do ye return, and come now: for I cannot find one wise man among you.
11 Mine Dage ere gangne forbi; oprykkede ere mine Tanker, hvilke mit Hjerte besad.
My days are past, my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart.
12 De gøre Nat til Dag; og Lyset skal være nær, naar Mørket kommer.
They change the night into day: the light is short because of darkness.
13 Dersom jeg end forventer noget, da er det Graven som min Bolig; jeg har redet mit Leje i Mørket. (Sheol h7585)
If I wait, the grave is my house: I have made my bed in the darkness. (Sheol h7585)
14 Jeg har raabt til Graven: Du er min Fader! til Ormen: Min Moder og min Søster!
I have said to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister.
15 Hvor skulde da min Forventelse være? ja min Forventelse — hvo skuer den?
And where is now my hope? as for my hope, who shall see it?
