Nahum 3
1 Ve Byen, der drypper af Blod, hvor der kun tales Løgn, saa fuld af Ran, med Rov uden Ende!
Woe [to] the city of blood, She is all full with lies [and] burglary, Prey does not depart.
2 Hør Smæld og raslende Vogne, jagende Heste,
The sound of a whip, And the sound of the rattling of a wheel, And of a prancing horse, and of a bounding chariot, Of a horseman mounting.
3 Stridsvognenes vilde Dans og stejlende Heste! Sværdblink og lynende Spyd, faldne i Mængde, Masser af døde, endeløse Dynger af Lig, man snubler over Lig!
And the flame of a sword, and the lightning of a spear, And the abundance of the wounded, And the weight of carcasses, Indeed, there is no end to the bodies, They stumble over their bodies.
4 For Skøgens vidt drevne Utugt, den fagre, udlært i Trolddom, som besnærede Folk ved Utugt, Stammer ved Trolddom,
Because of the abundance of the fornications of a harlot, The goodness of the grace of the lady of witchcrafts, Who is selling nations by her fornications, And families by her witchcrafts.
5 kommer jeg over dig, lyder det fra Hærskarers HERRE; dit Slæb slaar jeg op i Ansigtet paa dig, lader Folkeslag se din Blusel, Riger din Skam,
“Behold, I [am] against you,” A declaration of YHWH of Hosts, “And have removed your skirts before your face, And have showed nations your nakedness, And kingdoms your shame,
6 dænger dig til med Skarn og vanærer dig, ja sætter dig i Gabestok.
And I have cast on you abominations, And dishonored you, and made you as a sight.
7 Enhver, som faar dig at se, skal fly fra dig og sige: »Nineve er ødelagt, hvem vil ynke det, hvor skal jeg hente en til at give det Trøst?«
And it has come to pass, Each of your beholders flees from you, And has said: Nineveh is spoiled, Who bemoans for her? From where do I seek comforters for you?”
8 Mon du er bedre end No-Amon, der laa ved Strømme, omgivet af Vand som Bolværk, med Vand til Mur?
Are you better than No-Ammon, That is dwelling among brooks? Waters she has around her, Whose bulwark [is] the sea, waters her wall.
9 Dets Styrke var Ætiopere og Ægyptere uden Tal; Put og Libyer kom det til Hjælp.
Cush her might, and Egypt, and there is no end. Put and Lubim have been for your help.
10 Dog førtes det bort, i Fangenskab maatte det vandre, paa alle Gadehjørner knustes ogsaa dets spæde; og om dets ædle kastedes Lod, alle dets Stormænd lagdes i Lænker.
Even she becomes an exile, She has gone into captivity, Even her sucklings are dashed to pieces At the top of all out-places, And for her honored ones they cast a lot, And all her great ones have been bound in chains.
11 Ogsaa du skal drikke og synke i Afmagt, ogsaa du skal søge i Ly for Fjenden.
Even you are drunken, you are hidden, Even you seek a strong place, because of an enemy.
12 Alle dine Fæstninger er Figener og tidligmoden Frugt; naar de rystes, falder de den spisende i Munden.
All your fortresses [are] fig trees with first-fruits, If they are shaken, They have fallen into the mouth of the eater.
13 Se, Folket i dig er som Kvinder, vidaabne for Fjenden er Portene ind til dit Land, Ild fortæred dine Slaaer.
Behold, your people [are] women in your midst, To your enemies thoroughly opened Have been the gates of your land, Fire has consumed your bars.
14 Øs Vand til Brug, naar du omringes, styrk dine Fæstninger, træd Dynd, stamp Ler, tag fat paa Teglstensformen.
Waters of a siege draw for yourself, Strengthen your fortresses, Enter into mire, and tread on clay, Make strong a brick-kiln.
15 Ild skal fortære dig paa Stedet. Sværd udrydde dig, fortære dig som Springere. Er du end talrig som Springere, talrig som Græshopper,
There a fire consumes you, A sword cuts you off, It consumes you as a cankerworm! Make yourself heavy as the cankerworm, Make yourself heavy as the locust.
16 er end dine Købmænd flere end Himlens Stjerner — Græshoppen kaster sin Vingeskal og flyver!
Multiply your merchants above the stars of the heavens, The cankerworm has stripped off, and flees away.
17 Dine Fogeder er som Græshopper, dine Tipsarer som Græshoppesværme; de lejrer sig i Hegn, naar Dagen er sval; men naar Solen staar op, er de borte, man ved ej hvor.
Your crowned ones [are] as a locust, And your princes as great grasshoppers, That encamp in hedges in a day of cold, The sun has risen, and it flees away, And its place where they are is not known.
18 Hvor sov dine Hyrder fast, du Assurs Konge! Dine Helte blunded; dit Folk er spredt paa Bjergene, ingen samler dem.
Your friends have slumbered, king of Asshur, Your majestic ones rest, Your people have been scattered on the mountains, And there is none gathering.
19 Ulægeligt er dit Brud, dit Saar er til Døden. Alle, som hører om dig, klapper i Haand; thi hvem fik ikke din Ondskab stadig at føle?
There is no weakening of your destruction, Your striking [is] grievous, All hearing your fame have clapped the hand at you, For over whom did your wickedness not pass continually?
