Job 3
1 Derefter oplod Job sin Mund og forbandede sin Dag,
After this Job opened his mouth, and cursed his day,
2 og Job tog til Orde og sagde:
And he said:
3 Bort med den Dag, jeg fødtes, den Nat, der sagde: »Se, en Dreng!«
Let the day perish wherein I was born, and the night in which it was said: A man child is conceived.
4 Denne Dag vorde Mørke, Gud deroppe spørge ej om den, over den straale ej Lyset frem!
Let that day be turned into darkness, let not God regard it from above, and let not the light shine upon it.
5 Mulm og Mørke løse den ind, Taage lægge sig over den, Formørkelser skræmme den!
Let darkness, and the shadow of death cover it, let a mist overspread it, and let it be wrapped up in bitterness.
6 Mørket tage den Nat, den høre ej hjemme blandt Aarets Dage, den komme ikke i Maaneders Tal!
Let a darksome whirlwind seize upon that night, let it not be counted in the days of the year, nor numbered in the months.
7 Ja, denne Nat vorde gold, der lyde ej Jubel i den!
Let that night be solitary, and not worthy of praise.
8 De, der besværger Dage, forbande den, de, der har lært at hidse Livjatan;
Let them curse it who curse the day. who are ready to raise up a leviathan:
9 dens Morgenstjerner formørkes, den bie forgæves paa Lys, den skue ej Morgenrødens Øjenlaag,
Let the stars be darkened with the mist thereof: let it expect light and not see it, nor the rising of the dawning of the day:
10 fordi den ej lukked mig Moderlivets Døre og skjulte Kvide for mit Blik!
Because it shut not up the doors of the womb that bore me, nor took away evils from my eyes.
11 Hvi døde jeg ikke i Moders Liv eller udaanded straks fra Moders Skød?
Why did I not die in the womb, why did I not perish when I came out of the belly?
12 Hvorfor var der Knæ til at tage imod mig, hvorfor var der Bryster at die?
Why received upon the knees? why suckled at the breasts?
13 Saa havde jeg nu ligget og hvilet, saa havde jeg slumret i Fred
For now I should have been asleep and still, and should have rest in my sleep.
14 blandt Konger og Jordens Styrere, der bygged sig Gravpaladser,
With kings and consuls of the earth, who build themselves solitudes:
15 blandt Fyrster, rige paa Guld, som fyldte deres Huse med Sølv.
Or with princes, that possess gold, and All their houses with silver:
16 Eller var jeg dog som et nedgravet Foster, som Børn, der ikke fik Lyset at se!
Or as a hidden untimely birth I should not be, or as they that being conceived have not seen the light.
17 Der larmer de gudløse ikke mer, der hviler de trætte ud,
There the wicked cease from tumult, and there the wearied in strength are at rest.
18 alle de fangne har Ro, de hører ej Fogedens Røst;
And they sometime bound together without disquiet, have not heard the voice of the oppressor.
19 smaa og store er lige der og Trællen fri for sin Herre.
The small and great are there, and the servant is free from his master.
20 Hvi giver Gud de lidende Lys, de bittert sørgende Liv,
Why is light given to him that is in misery, and life to them that are in bitterness of soul?
21 dem, som bier forgæves paa Døden, graver derefter som efter Skatte,
That look for death, and it cometh not, as they that dig for a treasure:
22 som glæder sig til en Stenhøj, jubler, naar de finder deres Grav —
And they rejoice exceedingly when they have found the grave.
23 en Mand, hvis Vej er skjult, hvem Gud har stænget inde?
To a man whose way is hidden, and God hath surrounded him with darkness?
24 Thi Suk er blevet mit daglige Brød, mine Ve raab strømmer som Vand.
Before I eat I sigh: and as overflowing waters, so is my roaring:
25 Thi hvad jeg gruer for, rammer mig, hvad jeg bæver for, kommer over mig.
For the fear which I feared hath come upon me: and that which I was afraid of, hath befallen me.
26 Knap har jeg Fred, og knap har jeg Ro, knap har jeg Hvile, saa kommer Uro!
Have I not dissembled? have I not kept silence? have I not been quiet? and indignation is come upon me.
