Job 3
1 Derefter oplod Job sin Mund og forbandede sin Dag,
After this, Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth.
2 og Job tog til Orde og sagde:
And this is what he said:
3 Bort med den Dag, jeg fødtes, den Nat, der sagde: »Se, en Dreng!«
“May the day of my birth perish, and the night it was said, ‘A boy is conceived.’
4 Denne Dag vorde Mørke, Gud deroppe spørge ej om den, over den straale ej Lyset frem!
If only that day had turned to darkness! May God above disregard it; may no light shine upon it.
5 Mulm og Mørke løse den ind, Taage lægge sig over den, Formørkelser skræmme den!
May darkness and gloom reclaim it, and a cloud settle over it; may the blackness of the day overwhelm it.
6 Mørket tage den Nat, den høre ej hjemme blandt Aarets Dage, den komme ikke i Maaneders Tal!
If only darkness had taken that night away! May it not appear among the days of the year; may it never be entered in any of the months.
7 Ja, denne Nat vorde gold, der lyde ej Jubel i den!
Behold, may that night be barren; may no joyful voice come into it.
8 De, der besværger Dage, forbande den, de, der har lært at hidse Livjatan;
May it be cursed by those who curse the day — those prepared to rouse Leviathan.
9 dens Morgenstjerner formørkes, den bie forgæves paa Lys, den skue ej Morgenrødens Øjenlaag,
May its morning stars grow dark; may it wait in vain for daylight; may it not see the breaking of dawn.
10 fordi den ej lukked mig Moderlivets Døre og skjulte Kvide for mit Blik!
For that night did not shut the doors of the womb to hide the sorrow from my eyes.
11 Hvi døde jeg ikke i Moders Liv eller udaanded straks fra Moders Skød?
Why did I not perish at birth; why did I not die as I came from the womb?
12 Hvorfor var der Knæ til at tage imod mig, hvorfor var der Bryster at die?
Why were there knees to receive me, and breasts that I should be nursed?
13 Saa havde jeg nu ligget og hvilet, saa havde jeg slumret i Fred
For now I would be lying down in peace; I would be asleep and at rest
14 blandt Konger og Jordens Styrere, der bygged sig Gravpaladser,
with kings and counselors of the earth, who built for themselves cities now in ruins,
15 blandt Fyrster, rige paa Guld, som fyldte deres Huse med Sølv.
or with princes who had gold, who filled their houses with silver.
16 Eller var jeg dog som et nedgravet Foster, som Børn, der ikke fik Lyset at se!
Or why was I not hidden like a stillborn child, like an infant who never sees daylight?
17 Der larmer de gudløse ikke mer, der hviler de trætte ud,
There the wicked cease from raging, and there the weary find rest.
18 alle de fangne har Ro, de hører ej Fogedens Røst;
The captives enjoy their ease; they do not hear the voice of the oppressor.
19 smaa og store er lige der og Trællen fri for sin Herre.
Both small and great are there, and the slave is freed from his master.
20 Hvi giver Gud de lidende Lys, de bittert sørgende Liv,
Why is light given to the miserable, and life to the bitter of soul,
21 dem, som bier forgæves paa Døden, graver derefter som efter Skatte,
who long for death that does not come, and search for it like hidden treasure,
22 som glæder sig til en Stenhøj, jubler, naar de finder deres Grav —
who rejoice and greatly exult when they can find the grave?
23 en Mand, hvis Vej er skjult, hvem Gud har stænget inde?
Why is life given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in?
24 Thi Suk er blevet mit daglige Brød, mine Ve raab strømmer som Vand.
I sigh when food is put before me, and my groans pour out like water.
25 Thi hvad jeg gruer for, rammer mig, hvad jeg bæver for, kommer over mig.
For the thing I feared has overtaken me, and what I dreaded has befallen me.
26 Knap har jeg Fred, og knap har jeg Ro, knap har jeg Hvile, saa kommer Uro!
I am not at ease or quiet; I have no rest, for trouble has come.”
