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.
And now, laughed at me, Have the younger in days than I, Whose fathers I have loathed to set With the dogs of my flock.
2 Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
Also — the power of their hands, why [is it] to me? On them hath old age perished.
3 tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
With want and with famine gloomy, Those fleeing to a dry place, Formerly a desolation and waste,
4 og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
Those cropping mallows near a shrub, And broom-roots [is] their food.
5 Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve raabes der efter dem.
From the midst they are cast out, (They shout against them as a thief),
6 De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
In a frightful place of valleys to dwell, Holes of earth and clefts.
7 De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
Among shrubs they do groan, Under nettles they are gathered together.
8 en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
Sons of folly — even sons without name, They have been smitten from the land.
9 Men nu er jeg Haansang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
And now, their song I have been, And I am to them for a byword.
10 de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
They have abominated me, They have kept far from me, And from before me have not spared to spit.
11 Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
Because His cord He loosed and afflicteth me, And the bridle from before me, They have cast away.
12 Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slaar de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig;
On the right hand doth a brood arise, My feet they have cast away, And they raise up against me, Their paths of calamity.
13 min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
They have broken down my path, By my calamity they profit, 'He hath no helper.'
14 de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
As a wide breach they come, Under the desolation have rolled themselves.
15 Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
He hath turned against me terrors, It pursueth as the wind mine abundance, And as a thick cloud, Hath my safety passed away.
16 Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
And now, in me my soul poureth itself out, Seize me do days of affliction.
17 Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
At night my bone hath been pierced in me, And mine eyelids do not lie down.
18 Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
By the abundance of power, Is my clothing changed, As the mouth of my coat it doth gird me.
19 Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
Casting me into mire, And I am become like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du staar der og ænser mig ikke;
I cry unto Thee, And Thou dost not answer me, I have stood, and Thou dost consider me.
21 grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Haand.
Thou art turned to be fierce to me, With the strength of Thy hand, Thou oppressest me.
22 Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
Thou dost lift me up, On the wind Thou dost cause me to ride, And Thou meltest — Thou levellest me.
23 thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
For I have known To death Thou dost bring me back, And [to] the house appointed for all living.
24 Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Haanden ud og raaber om Hjælp, naar han gaar under?
Surely not against the heap Doth He send forth the hand, Though in its ruin they have safety.
25 Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det haardt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
Did not I weep for him whose day is hard? Grieved hath my soul for the needy.
26 Jeg biede paa Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg haabed paa Lys, men Mørke kom;
When good I expected, then cometh evil, And I wait for light, and darkness cometh.
27 ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
My bowels have boiled, and have not ceased, Gone before me have days of affliction.
28 trøstesløs gaar jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og raaber;
Mourning I have gone without the sun, I have risen, in an assembly I cry.
29 Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
A brother I have been to dragons, And a companion to daughters of the ostrich.
30 Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
My skin hath been black upon me, And my bone hath burned from heat,
31 min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Graad!
And my harp doth become mourning, And my organ the sound of weeping.
