Job 30
1 Nu derimod ler de ad mig, Folk, der er yngre end jeg, hvis Fædre jeg fandt for ringe at sætte iblandt mine Hyrdehunde.
“But now they mock me, men younger than I am, whose fathers I would have refused to entrust with my sheep dogs.
2 Og hvad skulde jeg med deres Hænders Kraft? Deres Ungdomskraft har de mistet,
What use to me was the strength of their hands, since their vigor had left them?
3 tørrede hen af Trang og Sult. De afgnaver Ørk og Ødemark
Gaunt from poverty and hunger, they gnawed the dry land, and the desolate wasteland by night.
4 og plukker Melde ved Krattet, Gyvelrødder er deres Brød.
They plucked mallow among the shrubs, and the roots of the broom tree were their food.
5 Fra Samfundet drives de bort, som ad Tyve råbes der efter dem.
They were banished from among men, shouted down like thieves,
6 De bor i Kløfter, fulde af Rædsler, i Jordens og Klippernes Huler.
so that they lived on the slopes of the wadis, among the rocks and in holes in the ground.
7 De brøler imellem Buske, i Tornekrat kommer de sammen,
They cried out among the shrubs and huddled beneath the nettles.
8 en dum og navnløs Æt, de joges med Hug af Lande.
A senseless and nameless brood, they were driven off the land.
9 Men nu er jeg Hånsang for dem, jeg er dem et Samtaleemne;
And now they mock me in song; I have become a byword among them.
10 de afskyr mig, holder sig fra mig, nægter sig ikke af spytte ad mig.
They abhor me and keep far from me; they do not hesitate to spit in my face.
11 Thi han løste min Buestreng, ydmyged mig, og foran mig kasted de Tøjlerne af.
Because God has unstrung my bow and afflicted me, they have cast off restraint in my presence.
12 Til højre rejser sig Ynglen, Fødderne slår de fra mig, bygger sig Ulykkesveje imod mig
The rabble arises at my right; they lay snares for my feet and build siege ramps against me.
13 min Sti har de opbrudt, de hjælper med til mit Fald, og ingen hindrer dem i det;
They tear up my path; they profit from my destruction, with no one to restrain them.
14 de kommer som gennem et gabende Murbrud, vælter sig frem under Ruiner,
They advance as through a wide breach; through the ruins they keep rolling in.
15 Rædsler har vendt sig imod mig; min Værdighed joges bort som af Storm, min Lykke svandt som en Sky.
Terrors are turned loose against me; they drive away my dignity as by the wind, and my prosperity has passed like a cloud.
16 Min Sjæl opløser sig i mig; Elendigheds Dage har ramt mig:
And now my soul is poured out within me; days of affliction grip me.
17 Natten borer i mine Knogler, aldrig blunder de nagende Smerter.
Night pierces my bones, and my gnawing pains never rest.
18 Med vældig Kraft vanskabes mit Kød, det hænger om mig, som var det min Kjortel.
With great force He grasps my garment; He seizes me by the collar of my tunic.
19 Han kasted mig ud i Dynd, jeg er blevet som Støv og Aske.
He throws me into the mud, and I have become like dust and ashes.
20 Jeg skriger til dig, du svarer mig ikke, du står der og ænser mig ikke;
I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer; when I stand up, You merely look at me.
21 grum er du blevet imod mig, forfølger mig med din vældige Hånd.
You have ruthlessly turned on me; You oppose me with Your strong hand.
22 Du løfter og vejrer mig hen i Stormen, og dens Brusen gennemryster mig;
You snatch me up into the wind and drive me before it; You toss me about in the storm.
23 thi jeg ved, du fører mig hjem til Døden, til det Hus, hvor alt levende samles.
Yes, I know that You will bring me down to death, to the place appointed for all the living.
24 Dog, mon den druknende ej rækker Hånden ud og råber om Hjælp, når han går under?
Yet no one stretches out his hand to a ruined man when he cries for help in his distress.
25 Mon ikke jeg græder over den, som havde det hårdt, sørgede ikke min Sjæl for den fattiges Skyld?
Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has my soul not grieved for the needy?
26 Jeg biede på Lykke, men Ulykke kom, jeg håbed på Lys, men Mørke kom;
But when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, darkness fell.
27 ustandseligt koger det i mig, Elendigheds Dage traf mig;
I am churning within and cannot rest; days of affliction confront me.
28 trøstesløs går jeg i Sorg, i Forsamlingen rejser jeg mig og råber;
I go about blackened, but not by the sun. I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 Sjakalernes Broder blev jeg, Strudsenes Fælle.
I have become a brother of jackals, a companion of ostriches.
30 Min Hud er sort, falder af, mine Knogler brænder af Hede;
My skin grows black and peels, and my bones burn with fever.
31 min Citer er blevet til Sorg, min Fløjte til hulkende Gråd!
My harp is tuned to mourning and my flute to the sound of weeping.
