Job 3
1 Derefter oplod Job sin Mund og forbandede sin Dag,
After this hath Job opened his mouth, and revileth his day.
2 og Job tog til Orde og sagde:
And Job answereth and saith: —
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 hath said: 'A man-child hath 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, Let not God require it from above, Nor let light shine upon 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 tabernacle upon 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, Into the number of months let it not come.
7 Ja, denne Nat vorde gold, der lyde ej Jubel i den!
Lo! that night — let it be gloomy, 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 hath not shut the doors Of the womb that was mine! And hide misery from mine eyes.
11 Hvi døde jeg ikke i Moders Liv eller udaanded straks fra Moders Skød?
Why from the womb do I not die? From the belly I have come forth and gasp!
12 Hvorfor var der Knæ til at tage imod mig, hvorfor var der Bryster at die?
Wherefore 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 counsellors of earth, These building wastes 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 as a hidden abortion I am not, 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 rest do the wearied 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] there the same. And a servant [is] free from his lord.
20 Hvi giver Gud de lidende Lys, de bittert sørgende Liv,
Why giveth He to the miserable light, 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 — unto 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 hath been hidden, And whom God doth shut up?
24 Thi Suk er blevet mit daglige Brød, mine Ve raab strømmer som Vand.
For before my food, my sighing cometh, And poured out as waters [are] my roarings.
25 Thi hvad jeg gruer for, rammer mig, hvad jeg bæver for, kommer over mig.
For a fear I feared and it meeteth me, And what I was afraid of doth come 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 cometh!
