Ezekiel 19

1 Du, Menneskesøn, istem en Klagesang over Israels Fyrster og sig:

“And you, lift up a lamentation to princes of Israel,

2 Hvor var dog din Moder en Løvinde midt iblandt Løver! Hun hviled blandt unge Løver opfostred Unger.

and you have said: What [is] your mother? A lioness, She has crouched down among lions, She has multiplied her whelps in the midst of young lions.

3 En Unge voksede til, en Ungløve blev den; den lærte at røve Rov, Mennesker aad den.

And she brings up one of her whelps, He has been a young lion, And he learns to tear prey, He has devoured man.

4 Da opbød man Folkene mod den, i Grav blev den fanget, de slæbte den bort med Kroge til Ægyptens Land.

And nations hear of him, He has been caught in their pit, And they bring him to the land of Egypt in chains.

5 Da hun saa, at den var ført bort, at Haabet var bristet, tog hun en anden Unge og gjorde til Løve.

And as she waited she sees that her hope has perished, And she takes one of her whelps, She has made him a young lion.

6 Den gik imellem Løvinder, en Ungløve blev den, den lærte at røve Rov, Mennesker aad den.

And he goes up and down in the midst of lions, He has been a young lion, And he learns to tear prey, He has devoured man.

7 Den overfaldt Vædre paa Græs, var Hjordenes Rædsel Landet og dets Fylde stivned af Angst for dens Brøl.

And he knows his forsaken habitations, And he has laid waste [to] their cities, And the land and its fullness is desolate, Because of the voice of his roaring.

8 Og Folkene lagde Snarer rundt omkring den, over den bredte de Nettet, i Grav blev den fanget.

And surrounding nations set against him from the provinces. And they spread out their net for him, He has been caught in their pit.

9 De trak den med Kroge i Bur og førte den til Babels Konge, hen til Borgen, at dens Røst ej mer skulde høres paa Israels Bjerge.

And they put him in prison—in chains, And they bring him to the king of Babylon, They bring him into bulwarks, So that his voice is not heard On mountains of Israel anymore.

10 Din Moder var en Vinstok i Vingaarden, plantet ved Vand, frugtbar og rig paa Grene ved rigelig Væde.

Your mother, like the vine in your blood, Is being planted by waters, She was bearing fruit and full of boughs, Because of many waters.

11 En af dens Grene blev til et Herskerspir dens knejsende Vækst skød op imellem Løvet, let at se i sin Højde, med mange Ranker.

And she has strong rods for scepters of rulers, And she is high in stature above—between thick branches, And it appears in its height In the multitude of its thin shoots.

12 Men, i Vrede blev Vinstokken oprykt, slænget til Jorden, Østenstorm tørred dens Frugt, den reves af, dens stolte Gren blev vissen, Ild aad den op.

And she is plucked up in fury, She has been cast to the earth, And the east wind has dried up her fruit, [The] rod of her strength has been broken and withered, Fire has consumed it.

13 Nu er den plantet i Ørkenen, et tørt og tørstigt Land.

And now she is planted in a wilderness, In a dry and thirsty land.

14 Ild for ud af dens Gren, fortæred dens Ranker og Frugt: en stolt Gren findes ej paa den til Herskerspir. Dette er en Klagesang, og en Klagesang blev det.

And fire goes forth from a rod of her boughs, It has devoured her fruit, And she has no rod of strength—a scepter to rule, A lamentation—and she has become for a lamentation!”