Job 13
1 Se, mit Øje har skuet alt dette, mit Øre har hørt og mærket sig det;
Lo! all [this], hath mine own eye seen, —Mine ear hath heard and understood it:
2 hvad I ved, ved også jeg, jeg falder ikke igennem for jer.
Just as ye know, I too, know, I, fall not short, of you.
3 Men til den Almægtige vil jeg tale, med Gud er jeg sindet at gå i Rette,
But indeed, I, unto the Almighty, would speak, and, to direct my argument unto GOD, would I be well pleased.
4 mens I smører på med Løgn; usle Læger er I til Hobe.
For, in truth, ye, do besmear with falsehood, Worthless physicians, all of you!
5 Om I dog vilde tie stille, så kunde I regnes for vise!
Oh that ye would, altogether hold your peace, and it should serve you for wisdom!
6 Hør dog mit Klagemål, mærk mine Læbers Anklage!
Hear, I pray you, the argument of my mouth, and, to the pleadings of my lips, give heed: —
7 Forsvarer I Gud med Uret, forsvarer I ham med Svig?
Is it, for God, ye would speak perversely? And, for him, would ye speak deceit:
8 Vil I tage Parti for ham, vil I træde i Skranken for Gud?
Even, for him, would ye be partial? Or, for GOD, would ye [so] plead?
9 Går det godt, når han ransager eder, kan I narre ham, som man narrer et Menneske?
Would it be well, when he searched you out? Or, as one might jest with a mortal, would ye jest, with him?
10 Revse jer vil han alvorligt, om I lader som intet og dog er partiske.
He will, severely rebuke, you, if ye are secretly partial.
11 Vil ikke hans Højhed skræmme jer og hans Rædsel falde på eder?
Shall not, his majesty, overwhelm you? and, the dread of him, fall upon you?
12 Eders Tankesprog bliver til Askesprog, som Skjolde af Ler eders Skjolde.
Are not your memorable sayings, proverbs of ashes? Breastworks of clay, your breastworks?
13 Ti stille, at jeg kan tale, så overgå mig, hvad der vil!
Quietly let me alone, that, I, may speak out, then let come on me, what may.
14 Jeg vil bære mit Kød i Tænderne og tage mit Liv i min Hånd;
In any case, I will take up my flesh in my teeth, and, my life, will I put in my hand:
15 se, han slår mig ihjel, jeg har intet Håb, dog lægger jeg for ham min Færd.
Lo! he may slay me, [yet], for him, will I wait, —Nevertheless, my ways—unto his face, will I show to be right:
16 Det er i sig selv en Sejr for mig, thi en vanhellig vover sig ikke til ham!
Even he, will be on my side—unto salvation, For, not before his face, shall any impious person come.
17 Hør nu ret på mit Ord, lad mig tale for eders Ører!
Hear ye patiently my speech, and be my declaration in your ears.
18 Se, til Rettergang er jeg rede, jeg ved, at Retten er min!
Lo! I pray you, I have set forth in order a plea, I know that, I, shall be found right.
19 Hvem kan vel trætte med mig? Da skulde jeg tie og opgive Ånden!
Who is it that shall contend with me? For, now, if I should hold my peace, why! I should breathe my last!
20 Kun for to Ting skåne du mig, så kryber jeg ikke i Skjul for dig:
Only, two things, do thou not with me, then, from thy face, will I not hide me: —
21 Din Hånd må du tage fra mig, din Rædsel skræmme mig ikke!
Thy hand—from off me, take thou far away, and, thy terror, let it not startle me!
22 Så stævn mig, og jeg skal svare, eller jeg vil tale, og du skal svare!
Then call thou, and, I, will answer, Or I will speak, and reply thou unto me.
23 Hvor stor er min Skyld og Synd? Lad mig vide min Brøde og Synd!
How many are mine iniquities and sins? My transgression and my sin, let me know!
24 Hvi skjuler du dog dit Åsyn og regner mig for din Fjende?
Wherefore, thy face, shouldst thou hide? Or count me, as an enemy to thee?
25 Vil du skræmme et henvejret Blad, forfølge et vissent Strå,
A driven leaf, wilt thou cause to tremble? Or, dry stubble, wilt thou pursue?
26 at du skriver mig så bitter en Dom og lader mig arve min Ungdoms Skyld,
For thou writest, against me, bitter things, and dost make me inherit the iniquities of my youth;
27 lægger mine Fødder i Blokken, vogter på alle mine Veje. indkredser mine Fødders Trin!
And thou dost put—in the stocks—my feet, and observest all my paths, Against the roots of my feet, thou dost cut out a bound;
28 Og så er han dog som smuldrende Trøske, som Klæder, der ædes op af Møl,
And, a man himself, as a rotten thing, weareth out, as a garment which the moth hath eaten.
