Job 30
1 Men nu le de ad mig, som ere yngre af Aar end jeg, de, hvis Fædre jeg vilde have forsmaaet at sætte hos mine Faarehunde.
“But now those who are younger than I have me in derision, whose fathers I considered unworthy to put with my sheep dogs.
2 Ja, hvortil skulde deres Hænders Kraft have gavnet mig? hos dem er Styrken svundet bort.
Of what use is the strength of their hands to me, men in whom ripe age has perished?
3 De ere udtærede af Mangel og Hunger, de afgnave den golde Ørk, i Ødelæggelsens og Fordærvelsens Nat;
They are gaunt from lack and famine. They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of waste and desolation.
4 de oprykke Katost ved Buskene, og Gyveltræets Rod er deres Føde;
They pluck salt herbs by the bushes. The roots of the broom tree are their food.
5 de uddrives fra Samfundet, man skriger efter dem som efter en Tyv;
They are driven out from among men. They cry after them as after a thief,
6 de bo i Kløfter i Dalene, i Huler i Jorden og Klipper;
so that they live in frightful valleys, and in holes of the earth and of the rocks.
7 imellem Buske skryde de, de samles under Nælder.
They bray among the bushes. They are gathered together under the nettles.
8 Børn af Daarer, ja af Mænd uden Navn; de ere udstødte af Landet.
They are children of fools, yes, children of wicked men. They were flogged out of the land.
9 Men nu er jeg bleven en Spottesang for dem og maa tjene dem til Snak.
“Now I have become their song. Yes, I am a byword to them.
10 De have Vederstyggelighed til mig, de holde sig langt fra mig og spare ikke at spytte mig i Ansigtet.
They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, and don’t hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Thi de have løst Tøjlen af sig og plaget mig, og de have kastet Bidselet af for mit Ansigt.
For he has untied his cord, and afflicted me; and they have thrown off restraint before me.
12 Til højre for mig staar en Yngel frem, de støde mine Fødder bort, og de bane deres Fordærvelses Veje imod mig;
On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet. They cast their ways of destruction up against me.
13 de bryde min Sti op, de hjælpe til min Ulykke, de have ingen Hjælper;
They mar my path. They promote my destruction without anyone’s help.
14 de komme som igennem et vidt Gab, de vælte sig frem under Bulder.
As through a wide breach they come. They roll themselves in amid the ruin.
15 Rædsler ere vendte imod mig, som et Stormvejr forfølge de min Herlighed, og min Frelse er gaaet forbi som en Sky.
Terrors have turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.
16 Men nu er min Sjæl hensmeltet i mig, Elendigheds Dage komme over mig.
“Now my soul is poured out within me. Days of affliction have taken hold of me.
17 Natten gennemborer mine Ben, saa at de falde af mig, og mine nagende Smerter hvile ikke.
In the night season my bones are pierced in me, and the pains that gnaw me take no rest.
18 Ved den overvættes Magt er min Klædning helt forandret, den omslutter mig som Kraven paa min Underkjortel.
My garment is disfigured by great force. It binds me about as the collar of my tunic.
19 Han har kastet mig i Dyndet, og jeg er lignet ved Støv og Aske.
He has cast me into the mire. I have become like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, men du svarer mig ikke; jeg staar der, og du bliver ved at se paa mig.
I cry to you, and you do not answer me. I stand up, and you gaze at me.
21 Du har forvendt dig til at være grum imod mig; du modstaar mig med din Haands Styrke.
You have turned to be cruel to me. With the might of your hand you persecute me.
22 Du løfter mig op i Stormvejret, du lader mig fare hen, og du lader mig forgaa i dets Brag.
You lift me up to the wind, and drive me with it. You dissolve me in the storm.
23 Thi jeg ved, du fører mig til Døden igen og til alle levendes Forsamlings Hus.
For I know that you will bring me to death, to the house appointed for all living.
24 Mon en ikke udrækker Haanden i sit Fald? eller mon en ikke skriger i sin Ulykke?
“However doesn’t one stretch out a hand in his fall? Or in his calamity therefore cry for help?
25 Eller græd jeg ikke for den, som havde haarde Dage? ynkedes min Sjæl ikke over den fattige?
Didn’t I weep for him who was in trouble? Wasn’t my soul grieved for the needy?
26 Thi der jeg forventede godt, da kom det onde, og der jeg haabede til Lys, da kom Mørkhed.
When I looked for good, then evil came. When I waited for light, darkness came.
27 Mine Indvolde syde og ere ikke stille; Elendigheds Dage ere komne over mig.
My heart is troubled, and doesn’t rest. Days of affliction have come on me.
28 Jeg gaar sort, uden Sol, jeg staar op, jeg skriger i Forsamlingen.
I go mourning without the sun. I stand up in the assembly, and cry for help.
29 Jeg er bleven Dragers Broder og Strudses Stalbroder.
I am a brother to jackals, and a companion to ostriches.
30 Min Hud er bleven sort og falder af mig, og Benene i mig brænde af Hede.
My skin grows black and peels from me. My bones are burned with heat.
31 Og min Harpe er bleven til Sorrig, og min Fløjte til de grædendes Lyd.
Therefore my harp has turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of those who weep.
