Salme 39
1 Til Sangmesteren. Til Jedutun. En Salme af David.
[For the Chief Musician. For Jeduthun. A Psalm by David.] I said, "I will watch my ways, so that I do not sin with my tongue. I will keep my mouth with a bridle while the wicked is before me."
2 Jeg sagde: »Mine Veje vil jeg vogte paa, saa jeg ikke synder med Tungen; min Mund vil jeg holde i Tømme, saa længe den gudløse er mig nær!«
I was mute with silence. I held my peace, even from good. My sorrow was stirred.
3 Jeg var stum og tavs, jeg tav for at undgaa tomme Ord, men min Smerte naged,
My heart was hot within me. While I meditated, the fire burned: I spoke with my tongue:
4 mit Hjerte brændte i Brystet, Ild lued op, mens jeg grunded; da talte jeg med min Tunge.
"LORD, show me my end, what is the measure of my days. Let me know how frail I am.
5 Lær mig, HERRE, at kende mit Endeligt, det Maal af Dage, jeg har, lad mig kende, hvor snart jeg skal bort!
Look, you have made my days handbreadths. My lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely every man stands as a breath." (Selah)
6 Se, i Haandsbredder maalte du mine Dage ud, mit Liv er som intet for dig, som et Aandepust staar hvert Menneske der. (Sela)
"Surely a person goes about like a shadow. Surely he heaps up vain things of wealth, and doesn't know who shall gather them.
7 Kun som en Skygge er Menneskets Vandring, kun Tomhed er deres Travlhed; de samler og ved ej, hvem der faar det.
And now, LORD, what do I wait for? My hope is in you.
8 Hvad bier jeg, Herre, da efter? Mit Haab staar ene til dig.
Deliver me from all my transgressions. Do not make me the taunt of fools.
9 Fri mig for al min Synd, gør mig ikke til Spot for Daarer!
I was mute. I did not open my mouth, because you did it.
10 Jeg tier og aabner ikke min Mund, du voldte det jo.
Remove your scourge away from me. I am overcome by the blow of your hand.
11 Borttag din Plage fra mig, under din vældige Haand gaar jeg til.
When you rebuke and correct man for iniquity, You consume his wealth like a moth. Surely every man is but a breath." (Selah)
12 Naar du tugter en Mand med Straf for hans Brøde, smuldrer du hans Herlighed hen som Møl; kun et Aandepust er hvert Menneske. (Sela)
"Hear my prayer, LORD, and give ear to my cry. Do not be silent at my tears. For I am a stranger with you, a foreigner, as all my fathers were.
13 Hør, o HERRE, min Bøn og lyt til mit Skrig, til mine Taarer tie du ej! Thi en fremmed er jeg hos dig, en Gæst som alle mine Fædre. Se bort fra mig, saa jeg kvæges, før jeg gaar bort og ej mer er til!
Oh spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go away, and exist no more."
