Nahum 3
1 Ve Byen, der drypper af Blod, hvor der kun tales Løgn, saa fuld af Ran, med Rov uden Ende!
Alas for the city of bloodshed! All of it, deceit, of violence full, none releaseth prey!
2 Hør Smæld og raslende Vogne, jagende Heste,
The sound of the whip, and the sound of the rushing wheel, —and horse galloping, and dancing chariot rattling along.
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!
Horsemen uplifting both the flashing sword, and the lightning spear, Aye, a mass of slain, and a weight of dead bridles, —and no end of corpses, so that they stumble upon their corpses.
4 For Skøgens vidt drevne Utugt, den fagre, udlært i Trolddom, som besnærede Folk ved Utugt, Stammer ved Trolddom,
Because of the multitude of the unchaste doings of the unchaste one, fair in grace, mistress of secret arts, —who hath been selling nations by her unchaste doings, families by her secret arts,
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 me! against thee, Declareth Yahweh of hosts, Therefore will I remove thy shirts over thy face, —and let, nations, see thy nakedness, and, kingdoms, thy shame;
6 dænger dig til med Skarn og vanærer dig, ja sætter dig i Gabestok.
And I will cast upon thee abominable filth, and treat thee as foolish, —and set thee as a gazing-stock.
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 shall come to pass that, all who see thee, shall flee from thee, and shall say, Destroyed is Nineveh! Who will bemoan her?—Whence shall I seek any to comfort thee?
8 Mon du er bedre end No-Amon, der laa ved Strømme, omgivet af Vand som Bolværk, med Vand til Mur?
Art thou better than No-amon, who sat among the Nile-streams, waters round about her, —whose fortress was the sea, from the sea, her wall.
9 Dets Styrke var Ætiopere og Ægyptere uden Tal; Put og Libyer kom det til Hjælp.
Ethiopia, was her strength, and Egypt—Yea, without end, —Put and Lubim, were among thy helpers.
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.
Yet, she, was given up to exile, she went into captivity, even her babes, were dashed to the ground, at the head of all the streets, —and, for her honourable men, cast they lots, and, all her great men, were bound together in chains.
11 Ogsaa du skal drikke og synke i Afmagt, ogsaa du skal søge i Ly for Fjenden.
Thou too, shalt be drunken, thou shalt hide thyself, —thou too, shalt seek shelter from the foe:
12 Alle dine Fæstninger er Figener og tidligmoden Frugt; naar de rystes, falder de den spisende i Munden.
All thy fortresses, shall be fig-trees with first-ripe figs: if thy be shaken, then shall [the fruit] fall on 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.
Lo! thy people, are women, in thy midst, to thy foes, have been set wide open the gates of thy and, —a fire, hath devoured, thy bars.
14 Øs Vand til Brug, naar du omringes, styrk dine Fæstninger, træd Dynd, stamp Ler, tag fat paa Teglstensformen.
Siege-water, draw for thyself, strengthen thy fortresses, —go into the clay, and tread thou the mortar, make strong the brick.
15 Ild skal fortære dig paa Stedet. Sværd udrydde dig, fortære dig som Springere. Er du end talrig som Springere, talrig som Græshopper,
There, shall a fire devour thee, the sword, shall cut thee off, it shall devour thee like the grass locust, make thyself numerous like the grass locust, make thyself numerous as the swarming locust:
16 er end dine Købmænd flere end Himlens Stjerner — Græshoppen kaster sin Vingeskal og flyver!
Though thou have multiplied thy foot-soldiers beyond the stars of the heavens, the grass locust, hath stript itself and flown 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.
Thy mercenary crowds, are like the swarming locust, and, thy mixed multitudes, like locusts—swarms of locusts, —which settle in the hedges on a cold day, the sun, hath broken forth, and they are in flight, and unknown is the place where they are!
18 Hvor sov dine Hyrder fast, du Assurs Konge! Dine Helte blunded; dit Folk er spredt paa Bjergene, ingen samler dem.
Asleep are thy shepherds, O king of Assyria, thy nobles, must needs rest. Scattered are thy people upon the mountains, and there is none to gather them.
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?
No lessening of thine injury, grievous is thy wound, —all who have heard the report of thee, have clapped their hands over thee, for, upon whom, hath not thy cruelty passed without ceasing?
