Job 16
1 Saa tog Job til Orde og svarede:
And Job answers and says:
2 Nok har jeg hørt af sligt, besværlige Trøstere er I til Hobe!
“I have heard many such things, Miserable comforters [are] you all.
3 Faar Mundsvejret aldrig Ende? Hvad ægged dig dog til at svare?
Is there an end to words of wind? Or what emboldens you that you answer?
4 Ogsaa jeg kunde tale som I, hvis I kun var i mit Sted, føje mine Ord imod jer og ryste paa Hovedet ad jer,
I also, like you, might speak, If your soul were in my soul’s stead. I might join against you with words, And nod at you with my head.
5 styrke jer med min Mund, ej spare paa ynksomme Ord!
I might harden you with my mouth, And the moving of my lips might be sparing.
6 Taler jeg, mildnes min Smerte ikke og om jeg tier, hvad Lindring faar jeg?
If I speak, my pain is not restrained, And I cease—what goes from me?
7 Dog nu har han udtømt min Kraft, du har ødelagt hele min Kreds;
Only, now, it has wearied me; You have desolated all my company,
8 at du greb mig, gælder som Vidnesbyrd mod mig, min Magerhed vidner imod mig.
And You loathe me, For it has been a witness, And my failure rises up against me, It testifies in my face.
9 Hans Vrede river og slider i mig, han skærer Tænder imod mig. Fjenderne hvæsser Blikket imod mig,
His anger has torn, and He hates me, He has gnashed at me with His teeth, My adversary sharpens His eyes for me.
10 de opspiler Gabet imod mig, slaar mig med Haan paa Kind og flokkes til Hobe omkring mig;
They have gaped on me with their mouth, In reproach they have struck my cheeks, Together they set themselves against me.
11 Gud gav mig hen i Niddingers Vold, i gudløses Hænder kasted han mig.
God shuts me up to the perverse, And turns me over to the hands of the wicked.
12 Jeg leved i Fred, saa knuste han mig, han greb mig i Nakken og sønderslog mig; han stilled mig op som Skive,
I have been at ease, and He breaks me, And He has laid hold on my neck, And He breaks me in pieces, And He raises me to Him for a mark.
13 hans Pile flyver omkring mig, han borer i Nyrerne uden Skaansel, udgyder min Galde paa Jorden;
His archers go around against me. He split my reins, and does not spare, He pours out my gall to the earth.
14 Revne paa Revne slaar han mig, stormer som Kriger imod mig.
He breaks me—breach on breach, He runs on me as a mighty one.
15 Over min Hud har jeg syet Sæk og boret mit Horn i Støvet;
I have sewed sackcloth on my skin, And have rolled my horn in the dust.
16 mit Ansigt er rødt af Graad, mine Øjenlaag hyllet i Mørke,
My face is foul with weeping, And on my eyelids [is] death-shade.
17 skønt der ikke er Vold i min Haand, og skønt min Bøn er ren!
Not for violence in my hands, And my prayer [is] pure.
18 Dølg ikke, Jord, mit Blod, mit Skrig komme ikke til Hvile!
O earth, do not cover my blood! And let there not be a place for my cry.
19 Alt nu er mit Vidne i Himlen, min Talsmand er i det høje;
Also, now, behold, my witness [is] in the heavens, And my testifier in the high places.
20 gid min Ven lod sig finde! Mit Øje vender sig med Taarer til Gud,
My interpreter [is] my friend, My eye has dropped to God;
21 at han skifter Ret mellem Manden og Gud, mellem Mennesket og hans Ven!
And He reasons for a man with God, As a son of man for his friend.
22 Thi talte er de kommende Aar, jeg skal ud paa en Færd, jeg ej vender hjem fra.
When a few years come, Then I go [on] the path of no return.”
