Salme 144

1 Af David. Lovet være HERREN, min Klippe, som oplærer mine hænder til Strid, mine Fingre til Krig,

[By David.] Blessed be YHWH, my Rock, who teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to battle:

2 min Miskundhed og min Fæstning, min Klippeborg, min Frelser, mit Skjold og den, jeg lider paa, som underlægger mig Folkeslag!

my loving kindness, my fortress, my high tower, my deliverer, my shield, and he in whom I take refuge; who subdues peoples under me.

3 HERRE, hvad er et Menneske, at du kendes ved det, et Menneskebarn, at du agter paa ham?

YHWH, what is man, that you care for him? Or the son of man, that you think of him?

4 Mennesket er som et Aandepust, dets Dage som svindende Skygge.

Man is like a breath. His days are like a shadow that passes away.

5 HERRE, sænk din Himmel, stig ned og rør ved Bjergene, saa at de ryger;

Part your heavens, YHWH, and come down. Touch the mountains, and they will smoke.

6 slyng Lynene ud og adsplit Fjenderne, send dine Pile og indjag dem Rædsel;

Throw out lightning, and scatter them. Send out your arrows, and rout them.

7 udræk din Haand fra det høje, fri og frels mig fra store Vande,

Stretch out your hand from above, rescue me, and deliver me out of great waters, out of the hands of foreigners;

8 fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.

whose mouths speak deceit, Whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.

9 Gud, jeg vil synge dig en ny Sang, lege for dig paa tistrenget Harpe,

I will sing a new song to you, God. On a ten-stringed lyre, I will sing praises to you.

10 du, som giver Konger Sejr og udfrier David, din Tjener.

You are he who gives salvation to kings, who rescues David, his servant, from the deadly sword.

11 Fri mig fra det onde Sværd, frels mig fra fremmedes Haand, de, hvis Mund taler Løgn, hvis højre er Løgnehaand.

Rescue me, and deliver me out of the hands of foreigners, whose mouths speak deceit, whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.

12 I Ungdommen er vore Sønner som højvoksne Planter, vore Døtre er som Søjler, udhugget i Tempelstil;

Then our sons will be like well-nurtured plants, our daughters like pillars carved to adorn a palace.

13 vore Forraadskamre er fulde, de yder Forraad paa Forraad, vore Hjorde føder Tusinder, Titusinder paa vore Marker,

Our storehouses are full, filled with all kinds of provision. Our sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our fields.

14 fede er vore Okser; intet Murbrud, ingen Udvandring, ingen Skrigen paa Torvene.

Our oxen will pull heavy loads. There is no breaking in, and no going away, and no outcry in our streets.

15 Saligt det Folk, der er saaledes stedt, saligt det Folk, hvis Gud er HERREN!

Blessed are the people who are in such a situation. Blessed are the people whose God is YHWH.