Klagesangene 4
1 Hvor Guldet blev sort, og skæmmet det ædle metal, de hellige Stene slængt hen paa Gadernes Hjørner!
How is dimmed the gold! changed the most fine gold! Poured out are the stones of the sanctuary, at the top of all the streets.
2 Zions de dyre Sønner, der opvejed Guld, kun regnet for Lerkar, Pottemagerhænders Værk!
The precious sons of Zion, they who were weighed against pure gold, How are they accounted as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter!
3 Selv Sjakaler byder Brystet til, giver Ungerne Die, men mit Folks Datter blev grum som Ørkenens Strudse.
Even wild dogs, draw out the breast, give suck to their whelps—The daughter of my people, hath become cruel, like the ostriches in the desert.
4 Den spædes Tunge hang fast ved Ganen af Tørst, Børnene tigged om Brød, og ingen gav dem.
The tongue of the suckling, cleaveth to the roof of his mouth for thirst, —Young children, have asked bread, there was none, to break, it to them.
5 Folk, som levede lækkert, omkom paa Gaden; Folk, som var baaret paa Purpur, favnede Skarnet.
They who used to eat delicacies, are deserted in the streets, —They who used to be carried on crimson, have embraced heaps of refuse.
6 Mit Folks Datters Brøde var større end Synden i Sodom, som brat blev styrtet, saa Hænder ej rørtes derinde.
And the punishment of the daughter of my people hath grown greater than the punishment of Sodom, —which was overthrown as in a moment, when no hands had been laid violently upon her.
7 Hendes Fyrster var renere end Sne, mer hvide end Mælk, deres Legeme rødere end Koral, som Safir deres Aarer;
Purer were her Nazirites than snow, whiter were they than milk, —more ruddy, in body, than coral, A sapphire, was their beauty of form.
8 mer sorte end Sod ser de ud, kan ej kendes paa Gaden, Huden hænger ved Knoglerne, tør som Træ.
Darker than a coal, is their visage, They are not known in the streets—Their skin shrivelleth on their bones, is withered, become like a stick.
9 Sværdets Ofre var bedre farne end Sultens, som svandt hen, dødsramte, af Mangel paa Markens Grøde.
Better are the slain of the sword, than the slain of the famine, —for, these, pine away, stricken through, wanting the produce of the field.
10 Blide Kvinders Hænder kogte deres Børn; da mit Folks Datter brød sammen, blev de dem til Føde.
The hands of compassionate women, have cooked their own children, —they have served as nourishment to them, in the grievous injury of the daughter of my people.
11 HERREN køled sin Vrede, udøste sin Harmglød, han tændte i Zion en Ild, dets Grundvolde aad den.
Yahweh hath completed his indignation, hath poured out the glow of his anger; and hath kindled a fire in Zion, which hath devoured her foundations.
12 Ej troede Jordens Konger, ja ingen i Verden, at Uven og Fjende skulde staa i Jerusalems Porte.
Neither the kings of the earth, nor any of the inhabitants of the world, believed, that an adversary or an enemy, should enter, the gates of Jerusalem!
13 Det var for Profeternes Synd, for Præsternes Brøde, som i dets Midte udgød retfærdiges Blod.
[It is] for the sins of her prophets, the iniquities of her priests, —who have been pouring out, in her midst, the blood of the righteous!
14 De vanked som blinde paa Gaderne, tilsølet af Blod, rørte med Klæderne Ting, som ikke maa røres.
They have wandered—blind—in the streets, have defiled themselves with blood; so that men may not touch their garments.
15 »Var jer! En uren!« raabte man; »Var jer dog for dem!« Naar de flyr og vanker, raaber man: »Bliv ikke her!«
Turn aside! Unclean! have they cried to them, Turn aside! Turn aside! Do not touch! because they have fled, yea, wandered, Men said among the nations, They will not again tarry;
16 HERREN spredte dem selv, han saa dem ej mer, Præster regned man ej eller ynked Profeter.
The face of Yahweh, hath scattered them, He will look them out no more: The persons of the priests, they have not respected, To the elders, have they shown no favour.
17 End smægted vort Blik efter Hjælp, men kun for at skuffes, paa Varden spejded vi efter det Folk, der ej hjælper.
Silly shall our eyes fail, for our help that is vain: In our watchtower, have we watched—for a nation that will not save.
18 De lured paa vort Fjed, fra Torvene holdt vi os borte; Enden var nær, vore Dage var omme, ja, Enden var kommet.
They have laid snares for our steps, that we cannot walk in our own broadways: Drawn near hath our end, Fulfilled are our days, yea arrived hath our end.
19 Mer snare end Himlens Ørne var de, som jog os, paa Bjergene satte de efter os, lured i Ørkenen,
Swifter are our pursuers, than the eagles of the heavens, —Over the mountains, have they come hotly after us, In the wilderness, have they lain in wait for us.
20 vor Livsaande, HERRENS Salvede, blev fanget i deres Grave, han, i hvis Skygge vi tænkte at leve blandt Folkene.
The fragrance of our nostrils, The Anointed of Yahweh, hath been captured in their pits, —of whom we had said—In his shade, shall we live among the nations.
21 Glæd dig og fryd dig, Edom, som bor i Uz! Ogsaa dig skal Bægeret naa, du skal blotte dig drukken.
Rejoice and be glad, O daughter of Edom, thou inhabitress in the and of Uz, —Even unto thee, shall the cup pass along, thou shalt be drunken, and expose thy shame.
22 Din Skyld er til Ende, Zion, du forvises ej mer; han hjemsøger, Edom, din Skyld, afslører dine Synder.
Completed is thy punishment, O daughter of Zion, He will no more carry thee away captive—He hath punished thine iniquity, O daughter of Edom, he hath stripped the veil from off thy sins.
