Job 3
1 Derefter oplod Job sin Mund og forbandede sin Dag,
After this Job has opened his mouth, and reviles his day.
2 og Job tog til Orde og sagde:
And Job answers and says:
3 Bort med den Dag, jeg fødtes, den Nat, der sagde: »Se, en Dreng!«
“Let the day perish in which I am born, And the night that has said: A man-child has been conceived.
4 Denne Dag vorde Mørke, Gud deroppe spørge ej om den, over den straale ej Lyset frem!
That day—let it be darkness, Do not let God require it from above, Nor let light shine on it.
5 Mulm og Mørke løse den ind, Taage lægge sig over den, Formørkelser skræmme den!
Let darkness and death-shade redeem it, Let a cloud dwell on it, Let them terrify it as the most bitter of days.
6 Mørket tage den Nat, den høre ej hjemme blandt Aarets Dage, den komme ikke i Maaneders Tal!
That night—let thick darkness take it, Let it not be united to days of the year, Let it not come into the number of months.
7 Ja, denne Nat vorde gold, der lyde ej Jubel i den!
Behold! That night—let it be barren, Let no singing come into it.
8 De, der besværger Dage, forbande den, de, der har lært at hidse Livjatan;
Let the cursers of day mark it, Who are ready to wake up Leviathan.
9 dens Morgenstjerner formørkes, den bie forgæves paa Lys, den skue ej Morgenrødens Øjenlaag,
Let the stars of its twilight be dark, Let it wait for light, and there is none, And let it not look on the eyelids of the dawn.
10 fordi den ej lukked mig Moderlivets Døre og skjulte Kvide for mit Blik!
Because it has not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from my eyes.
11 Hvi døde jeg ikke i Moders Liv eller udaanded straks fra Moders Skød?
Why do I not die from the womb? I have come forth from the belly and gasp!
12 Hvorfor var der Knæ til at tage imod mig, hvorfor var der Bryster at die?
Why have knees been before me? And what [are] breasts, that I suck?
13 Saa havde jeg nu ligget og hvilet, saa havde jeg slumret i Fred
For now, I have lain down, and am quiet, I have slept—then there is rest to me,
14 blandt Konger og Jordens Styrere, der bygged sig Gravpaladser,
With kings and counselors of earth, These building ruins for themselves.
15 blandt Fyrster, rige paa Guld, som fyldte deres Huse med Sølv.
Or with princes—they have gold, They are filling their houses [with] silver.
16 Eller var jeg dog som et nedgravet Foster, som Børn, der ikke fik Lyset at se!
(Or I am not as a hidden abortion, As infants—they have not seen light.)
17 Der larmer de gudløse ikke mer, der hviler de trætte ud,
There the wicked have ceased troubling, And there the wearied rest in power.
18 alle de fangne har Ro, de hører ej Fogedens Røst;
Together prisoners have been at ease, They have not heard the voice of an exactor,
19 smaa og store er lige der og Trællen fri for sin Herre.
Small and great [are] the same there. And a servant [is] free from his lord.
20 Hvi giver Gud de lidende Lys, de bittert sørgende Liv,
Why does He give light to the miserable, and life to the bitter soul?
21 dem, som bier forgæves paa Døden, graver derefter som efter Skatte,
Who are waiting for death, and it is not, And they seek it above hid treasures.
22 som glæder sig til en Stenhøj, jubler, naar de finder deres Grav —
Who are glad—to joy, They rejoice when they find a grave.
23 en Mand, hvis Vej er skjult, hvem Gud har stænget inde?
To a man whose way has been hidden, And whom God shuts up?
24 Thi Suk er blevet mit daglige Brød, mine Ve raab strømmer som Vand.
For before my food, my sighing comes, And my roarings [are] poured out as waters.
25 Thi hvad jeg gruer for, rammer mig, hvad jeg bæver for, kommer over mig.
For I feared a fear and it meets me, And what I was afraid of comes to me.
26 Knap har jeg Fred, og knap har jeg Ro, knap har jeg Hvile, saa kommer Uro!
I was not safe—nor was I quiet—Nor was I at rest—and trouble comes!”
