Job 18
1 Så tog Sjuhiten Bildad til Orde og sagde:
And Bildad the Shuhite answereth and saith: —
2 "Så gør dog en Ende på dine Ord, kom til Fornuft og lad os tale!
When do ye set an end to words? Consider ye, and afterwards do we speak.
3 Hvi skal vi regnes for Kvæg og stå som umælende i dine Øjne?
Wherefore have we been reckoned as cattle? We have been defiled in your eyes!
4 Du, som i Vrede sønderslider din Sjæl, skal for din Skyld Jorden blive øde og Klippen flyttes fra sit Sted?
(He is tearing himself in his anger.) For thy sake is earth forsaken? And removed is a rock from its place?
5 Nej, den gudløses Lys bliver slukt, hans Ildslue giver ej Lys;
Also, the light of the wicked is extinguished. And there doth not shine a spark of his fire.
6 Lyset i hans Telt går ud, og hans Lampe slukkes for ham;
The light hath been dark in his tent, And his lamp over him is extinguished.
7 hans kraftige Skridt bliver korte, han falder for eget Råd;
Straitened are the steps of his strength, And cast him down doth his own counsel.
8 thi hans Fod drives ind i Nettet, på Fletværk vandrer han frem,
For he is sent into a net by his own feet, And on a snare he doth walk habitually.
9 Fælden griber om Hælen, Garnet holder ham fast;
Seize on the heel doth a gin, Prevail over him do the designing.
10 Snaren er skjult i Jorden for ham og Saksen på hans Sti;
Hidden in the earth is his cord, And his trap on the path.
11 Rædsler skræmmer ham alle Vegne og kyser ham Skridt for Skridt:
Round about terrified him have terrors, And they have scattered him — at his feet.
12 Ulykken hungrer efter ham, Undergang lurer på hans Fald:
Hungry is his sorrow, And calamity is ready at his side.
13 Dødens førstefødte æder hans Lemmer, æder hans Legemes Lemmer;
It consumeth the parts of his skin, Consume his parts doth death's first-born.
14 han rives bort fra sit Telt, sin Fortrøstning; den styrer hans Skridt til Rædslernes Konge;
Drawn from his tent is his confidence, And it causeth him to step to the king of terrors.
15 i hans Telt har Undergang hjemme, Svovl strøs ud på hans Bolig;
It dwelleth in his tent — out of his provender, Scattered over his habitation is sulphur.
16 nedentil tørrer hans Rødder, oventil visner hans Grene;
From beneath his roots are dried up, And from above cut off is his crop.
17 hans Minde svinder fra Jord, på Gaden nævnes ikke hans Navn;
His memorial hath perished from the land, And he hath no name on the street.
18 man støder ham ud fra Lys i Mørket og driver ham bort fra Jorderig;
They thrust him from light unto darkness, And from the habitable earth cast him out.
19 i sit Folk har han ikke Afkom og Æt, i hans Hjem er der ingen tilbage;
He hath no continuator, Nor successor among his people, And none is remaining in his dwellings.
20 de i Vester stivner ved hans Skæbnedag, de i Øst bliver slagne af Rædsel.
At this day westerns have been astonished And easterns have taken fright.
21 Ja, således går det den lovløses Bolig, dens Hjem, der ej kender Gud!
Only these [are] tabernacles of the perverse, And this the place God hath not known.
