Ezekiel 19
1 Du menneskesøn istem en klagesang over Israels fyrster og sig:
And thou, lift up a lamentation unto princes of Israel,
2 Hvor var dog din Moder en Løvinde midt iblandt Løver! Hun hviled blandt unge Løver opfostred Unger.
and thou hast said: What [is] thy mother? — a lioness, Among lions she hath crouched down, In the midst of young lions she hath multiplied her whelps.
3 En Unge voksede til, en Ungløve blev den; den lærte at røve Rov, Mennesker åd den.
And she bringeth up one of her whelps, A young lion it hath been, And it learneth to tear prey, man it hath devoured.
4 Da opbød man Folkene mod den, i Grav blev den fanget, de slæbte den bort med Kroge til Ægyptens Land.
And hear of it do nations, In their pit it hath been caught, And they bring it in with chains unto the land of Egypt.
5 Da hun så, at den var ført bort, at Håbet var bristet, tog hun en anden Unge og gjorde til Løve.
And she seeth, that stayed — perished hath her hope, And she taketh one of her whelps, A young lion she hath made it.
6 Den gik imellem Løvinder, en Ungløve blev den, den lærte at røve Rov, Mennesker åd den.
And it goeth up and down in the midst of lions, A young lion it hath been, And it learneth to tear prey, man it hath devoured.
7 Den overfaldt Vædre på Græs, var Hjordenes Rædsel Landet og dets Fylde stivned af Angst for dens Brøl.
And it knoweth his forsaken habitations, And their cities it hath laid waste, And desolate is the land and its fulness, Because of the voice of his roaring.
8 Og Folkene lagde Snarer rundt omkring den, over den bredte de Nettet, i Grav blev den fanget.
And set against it do nations Round about from the provinces. And they spread out for it their net, In their pit it hath been caught.
9 De trak den med Kroge i Bur og førte den til Babels Konge, hen til Borgen, at dens Røst ej mer skulde høres på Israels Bjerge.
And they put it in prison — in chains, And they bring it unto the king of Babylon, They bring it in unto bulwarks, So that its voice is not heard any more On mountains of Israel.
10 Din Moder var en Vinstok i Vingården, plantet ved Vand, frugtbar og rig på Grene ved rigelig Væde.
Thy mother [is] as a vine in thy blood by waters planted, Fruitful and full of boughs it hath been, Because of many waters.
11 En af dens Grene blev til et Herskerspir dens knejsende Vækst skød op imellem Løvet, let at se i sin Højde, med mange Ranker.
And it hath strong rods for sceptres of rulers, And high is its stature above thick branches, And it appeareth in its height In the multitude of its thin shoots.
12 Men, i Vrede blev Vinstokken oprykt, slænget til Jorden, Østenstorm tørred dens Frugt, den reves af, dens stolte Gren blev vissen, Ild åd den op.
And it is plucked up in fury, To the earth it hath been cast, And the east wind hath dried up its fruit, Broken and withered hath been the rod of its strength, Fire hath consumed it.
13 Nu er den plantet i Ørkenen, et tørt og tørstigt Land.
And now — it is planted in a wilderness, In a land dry and thirsty.
14 Ild for ud af dens Gren, fortæred dens Ranker og Frugt: en stolt Gren findes ej på den til Herskerspir. Dette er en Klagesang, og en Klagesang blev det.
And go forth doth fire from a rod of its boughs, Its fruit it hath devoured, And it hath no rod of strength — a sceptre to rule, Lamentation it [is] — and it is for a lamentation!'
