Job 30
1 Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
But now people much younger than me laugh at me; people whose fathers I would not put to work with my sheepdogs.
2 Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
They are too weak to be any use to me; they're all worn-out.
3 tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
Thin through hunger and want, they try to eat the dry ground in the dark, desolate wilderness.
4 og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
There they pick desert herbs and the leaves of bushes, and eat the roots of broom trees.
5 Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve raabes der efter dem.
They were driven out of the community.
6 De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
People shouted after them as if they were thieves. They have to live in dangerous ravines, in caves and among the rocks.
7 De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
They shout out like animals among the bushes; they huddle together in the weeds for shelter.
8 en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
They are foolish, nameless people that have been driven from the land.
9 Men nu er jeg Haansang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
Yet now they mock me in their songs; I have become a joke to them!
10 de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
They despise and shun me; they don't hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
God has made my bowstring loose and humbled me.
12 Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slaar de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig;
The rabble rise up against me, they send me running; like a city under siege they devise ways to destroy me.
13 min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
They cut off my way of escape; they bring about my downfall and do this without anyone's help.
14 de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
They come in through a wide breach; they rush in as the wall comes tumbling down.
15 Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
Terrors overcome me; my honor is blown away by the wind; my salvation vanishes like a cloud.
16 Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
And now my life is ebbing away; every day despair grips me.
17 Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
At night my bones are in agony; the pain gnaws at me and never stops.
18 Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
God grabs me roughly by my clothes; he pulls me by the collar of my shirt.
19 Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
He has thrown me in the mud; he has humbled me like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du staar der og ænser mig ikke;
God, I cry to you but you don't answer; I stand before you, but you don't even notice me.
21 grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Haand.
You have turned cruel to me; you use your power to make me suffer.
22 Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
You pick me up and blow me along in the wind; tossing me about in the whirlwind.
23 thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
I know you're taking me to my death, to the place where all the living go.
24 Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Haanden ud og raaber om Hjælp, naar han gaar under?
Who would want to kick a man when he is down, when they cry for help in their time of trouble?
25 Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det haardt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
Didn't I weep for those having hard times? Didn't I grieve at what the poor suffered?
26 Jeg biede paa Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg haabed paa Lys, men Mørke kom;
But when I looked for good, only evil came, and when I waited for the light, all that came was darkness.
27 ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
Inside I am in turmoil, it never stops; I face days of despair.
28 trøstesløs gaar jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og raaber;
I am so depressed; seeing the sun doesn't help. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
I am like a brother to the jackals, a companion to owls.
30 Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
My skin turns black on me; and my bones burn within me.
31 min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Graad!
My lyre only plays sad songs, and my pipe is the voice of those who weep.
